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\,\  s.l.   I'.    IVBRY,  STATE   l-l:i 


THE 


BATTLE-FIELD 


OF 


OUR   FATHERS. 


BY    VIRGINIA    F.    TOWNSEND. 


NEW^YORK: 

JOHN^BRADBURN,    PUBLISHER, 

(LATE  M.  DOOLADY.) 

49     WALKER    STREET. 

1864. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S64,  by 

JOIIN   BRADBURN, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  <>f  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


R.    CRAinilKAD, 

Primer,  sirir.«>  IJ.T,  .mil  Kirctrotyper, 
(Tartan  ftuirtliitg. 

81,  83,  <uul  *>   Ctntrt  Striat. 


To 

BENSON     J.     LOSSING-,     ESQ. 

In  grateful  acknowledgment  of  all  he  has  done  to  preserve  to  our 
native  land  its  dear  traditions  and  historical  associations — those  priceless 
jewels  of  her  present  and  future — do  I  inscribe  this  book. 

V.  F.  T. 


INTRODUCTION. 


I  THINK,  like  Esau,  we  do  not  hold  our  birthright  in 
sufficient  honor.  With  what  legacies  does  our  country 
endow  all  her  children,  in  song,  and  story,  and  tradition — 
above  all,  in  noble  and  immortal  deeds  of  her  men  and 
women. 

But  we  hold  these  loosely,  we  let  them  slip  away  from, 
our  hearts  and  memories,  instead  of  wearing  them,  our 
chiefest  crown  of  glory  and  honor. 

With  feelings  akin  to  these,  I  have  written  my  book. 

Out  of  their  love  and  reverence  for  the  past,  others 
could  have  brought  fairer  tribute  to  it  than  any  which 
these  pages  hold.  Oh,  my  reader,  of  such  as  I  have,  give 

I  unto  thee. 

Y.  F.  T. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUfi  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  DEAR  me  !  there  goes  the  stage  horn !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Patience  Palmer,  wife  of  Deacon  Daniel  Palmer,  as  the 
winds  brought  the  sweet  clear  notes  from  the  distant  hills. 

She  plunged  her  hand  again  into  the  heap  of  golden 
quinces  on  her  right  side,  and  continued  .her  monologue 
while  the  skins  dropped  in  long,  yellow  skeins  over  her 
fingers,  as  her  knife  flashed  rapidly  about  the  fruit,  "  and 
I  must  get  the  quinces  pared  afore  night,  or  else  there's  no 
hope  of  their  being  preserved  to-morrow  mornin' ;  and  I 
promised  Miss  Richards  I'd  be  over  afore  two  o'clock  to 
help  her  get  things  ready  for  the  barn  raisin' — there's  no 
such  word  as  restin'  in  my  dictionary — that's  certain — 
Benny,  Benny — there,  let  that  alone  1" 

The  low,  running  voice  suddenly  raised  itself  into  an 
objurgatory  tone,  which  was  enforced  by  a  solemn  shake 
of  the  head,  as  Mrs.  Palmer  caught  sight  of  a  chubby  little 
hand  and  arm,  which  surreptitiously  thrust  itself  into  the 
great  pan  on  the  oak  chest,  heaped  with  quarters  of  de 
nuded  quinces. 


4  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  Please,  mother,  jest  one  little  piece  I"  lisped  a  sweet, 
pleading  voice,  and  the  mother  looked  down  on  a  small, 
sun-browned  face,  with  the  brightest  pair  of  black  eyes, 
that  were  for  ever  dancing  with  mischief,  and  a  little  head 
whose  thick,  shining  curls  made  a  light  wherever  it  bobbed 
and  nestled. 

Mrs.  Palmer's  face  relaxed.  "  Benny"  was  her  youngest 
born,  and  before  him  there  was  half-a-dozen  brown  and 
yellow  heads,  which  slept  still  on  pillows  which  no  mother's 
hand  had  ever  spread — over  which  no  mother's  sweet  lul 
laby  was  ever  sung;  it  was  more  than  Mrs.  Palmer  could 
stand — the  sight  of  that  face,  brown  as  a  berry,  with  its 
bright  eyes  and  saucy  lips. 

"It's  the  very  last  piece  I  shall  give  you,"  she  said, 
slipping  one  of  the  ripest  quarters  into  the  fat  little  hand. 
"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  should  give  you  the  dysentery." 

"  I  aint  afraid  of  him,"  answered  the  boy  of  three,  with 
a  comical  look  of  defiance,  meant  as  a  general  challenge 
to  all  the  ills  of  life. 

"  Benny,  you  are  the  worst  boy  that  I  ever  did  see !" 
exclaimed  the  mother,  half  appalled  at  the  combative  spirit 
of  her  youngest  born ;  but  the  look  which  she  intended 
to  be  very  impressive  and  solemn,  was  contended  with, 
and  vanquished  by  another  expression,  when  she  caught 
sight  of  the  little  rogue. 

He  stood  there,  in  such  a  sturdy,  defiant  attitude — so  full 
of  life  and  health,  it  did  not  seem  that  any  sickness  or  suffer 
ing  could  ever  touch  him,  as  he  smacked  his  red  lips  over 
his  quince,  and  the  juice  ran  out  of  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 

Mrs.  Palmer  pursed  her  pale  lips  together  to  hide  the 
smile  that  was  lurking  about  them ;  and  which  would  be 
certain  to  neutralize,  if  not  utterly  subvert  her  admonitions. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  5 

"  What  do  you  think  you're  comin'  to,  if  you  go  on  at 
this  rate  ?" 

"I'm  comin'  to  be  a  man,  bigger  than  Robert,  pretty 
soon,  and  then  I  shall  have  a  horse  and  go  to  ride  every 
day,  without  askin'." 

There  was  no  use  now ;  the  smile  came,  brightening  the 
pale,  faded  face  of  the  mother,  as  an  hour  or  two  later  the 
last  sunlight  would  the  face  of  day. 

"Well,  Benny,  I  hope  that  you'll  make  a  good  man, 
like  your  father,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  feeling  that  her  only 
resort  was  an  ignoble  truce.  "  Come,  now,  run  off  and 
build  a  meetin'  house,  with  a  great  steeple,  for  father  to 
see  when  he  gets  home." 

This  proposition  was  at  once  acted  on.  The  boy  started 
with  a  shout  for  his  small  cart  of  blocks  in  the  corner ;  and 
Mrs.  Palmer  once  more  bent  herself  in  eliminating  the  core 
of  a  quince. 

She  sat  in  the  kitchen  of  an  ample  old  farm-house,  which 
stood  some  two  miles  from  the  town  of  New  London,  in 
the  autumn  of  the  year  of  our  Lord  seventeen  hundred 
and  seventy-four ! 

The  farm-house  was  two  stories  high ;  the  roof  was  steep 
in  front,  and  slanted  nearly  to  the  ground  on  one  side,  after 
the  usual  fashion  of  farm-houses  at  that  time.  It  had  an 
ample,  friendly  look,  as  it  stood  in  the  midst  of  pleasant 
fields  on  slightly  rising  ground. 

Two  miles  away  from  it  was  the  busy,  thriving  little 
town  of  oSTew  London,  its  wharves  swarming  with  a 
shrewd,  bustling  population,  and  the  ships  which  lay  at 
anchor  unfurled  from  their  mast-heads  in  its  noble  har 
bor  the  flags  of  almost  every  nation  on  the  face  of  the 
earth. 


6  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  farm-house  of  Deacon  Palmer, 
stood  the  hills  which  saluted  the  dawn  and  parted  with  the 
day ;  and  on  the  south  you  could  see  Long  Island  Sound  ; 
sometimes  behind  a  grey  wall  of  fog,  which  sooner  or  later 
was  swept  away  by  the  golden  arms  of  sunshine  ;  and  the 
white  sails  of  the  sloops  and  schooners  on  its  bosom  seemed 
like  vast  white  blossoms  opening  themselves  on  the 
waters. 

The  year  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  her  heart  was  full  of 
that  dream  of  the  tropics — her  last  and  sweetest  one — the 
Indian  Summer. 

Mrs.  Palmer's  kitchen  windows  were  all  open,  and  the 
sunshine  filled  the  low,  ample  room,  and  touched  with 
picturesqueness  every  object  on  which  it  rested ;  the  tall 
old  clock  that  reached  the  ceiling,  the  rush-bottomed  chairs, 
the  cherry-table,  and  the  face  and  figure  of  the  little  woman, 
who,  in  her  short  gown  and  grey  skirt,  sat  diligently  paring 
quinces  in  the  corner. 

It  was  a  gentle,  motherly  face — that  which  belonged 
to  Mrs.  Patience  Palmer.  Forty-two  years  had  faded  its 
bloom  and  sharpened  its  once  fair  outlines.  And  the 
great  storms  which  seven  times  had  thundered  over  her 
soul,  had  left  on  her  face  a  legible  story  of  patience  and 
suffering ;  for  of  the  ten  children  which  had  been  given  to 
Daniel  and  Patience  Palmer,  there  remained  only  their  two 
eldest  and  their  youngest  born,  and  between  these  there 
lay  seven  green  little  graves. 

Deacon  Daniel  Palmer  was  an  honest,  God-fearing  man, 
universally  esteemed  for  his  warm  heart  and  sturdy  in 
tegrity  of  character.  He  was  a  farmer  in  comfortable, 
though  not  wealthy  circumstances. 

He  had  slipped  a  little  beyond  his  fiftieth  year,  but  a 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  7 

life  of  hard  toil  had  already  begun  to  tell  somewhat  upon 
the  stalwart  frame  of  the  farmer. 

There  were  thick  seams  of  grey  in  his  hair ;  and  his 
limbs  were  stiff  after  a  day's  labor,  such  as  would  have 
been  mere  play  in  his  youth,  and  he  had  a  "  touch  of  the 
rheumatis"  when  the  ice  broke  up  in  the  spring ;  but  the 
energetic  farmer  strove  hard  against  these  first  infirmities 
of  age,  and  manfully  battled  the  ground,  inch  by  inch, 
against  them. 

Benjamin  Palmer  was  placing  the  last  block  to  a  steeple, 
vastly  disproportioned  to  the  edifice  whose  pride  and  orna 
ment  it  was  intended  to  be,  when  a  shadow  fell  beyond 
the  door-sill,  and  Mrs.  Palmer  looked  up  with  a  start  of 
surprise. 

"  Why,  father,"  was  her  somewhat  equivocal  welcome, 
"what  has  sent  you  home  now!  I  thought  you  said  it 
would  take  you  until  clear  sundown  to  get  that  last  load 
of  corn  in  ?" 

There  was  a  half  pleased,  half  mysterious  expression  on 
the  face  of  Deacon  Palmer,  as  he  came  into  the  kitchen  and 
seated  himself  in  an  arm-chair  by  the  table.  It  was  a  face 
rugged  and  weather-beaten,  but  there  was  a  kindly  look  in 
the  shrewd  grey  eyes,  under  the  shaggy  brows,  and  the  face 
suited  the  stalwart  limbs. 

The  farmer  took  a  large  Bundle  from  under  his  right 
arm,  and  looked  round  the  kitchen  curiously. 

"I  didn't  expect  to  get  home  quite  so  early,  but 
I  had  a  little  matter  on  hand.  Where's  Grace,  mo 
ther  ?"  lowering  his  voice,  and  glancing  round  the 
kitchen. 

"  She's  up  stairs,  finishin'  off  her  spinnin',  I  reckon. 
But,  Daniel,  what  have  you  got  in  that  bundle  ?"  laying 


8  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

the  half-pared  quince  in  her  pan,  for  Mrs.  Palmer's  curio 
sity  was  now  stimulated. 

There  was  a  pleasant  twinkle  in  the  farmer's  grey  eyes  ; 
he  leaned  forward  a  little : 

"  This  is  Grace's  birth-day,  you  know,  mother  ?" 

"I  know  it;  but  I  thought  likely  it  had  escaped  your 
mind." 

"  You  was  mistaken  there.  I  lay  up  such  things  where 
they  don't  slip  out  very  easily;  and  I  thought  it  would  be 
pleasant  to  give  her  a  little  surprise,  like!" 

"To  be  sure,  father,"  assented  Mrs.  Palmer,  with  a 
smile,  her  curious  eyes  on  the  bundle. 

"  "Well,  when  Bayley,  the  dry  goods  merchant,  told  me 
that  he  was  going  down  to  New  York,  week  afore  last,  I 
asked  him  to  bring  me  the  handsomest  caliker  he  could 
find  in  that  city,  and  it's  come  by  stage  this  afternoon." 

"  Well,  I  do  declare,  father !"  exclaimed  little  Mrs. 
Palmer,  with  a  smile  all  over  her  face.  "  Do  tear  open 
that  wrapper.  I'm  crazy  to  see  it." 

Deacon  Palmer  took  up  his  wife's  knife,  severed  the 
cord,  and  tore  away  the  brown  wrappings,  and  held  up  the 
fabric.  Over  a  rich,  dark  ground  were  scattered  thick 
bunches  of  moss  roses,  the  red  blossoms  just  breaking  out 
from  the  green  calyxes,  and  looking  as  if  the  night-dews 
still  hung  thick  upon  the  blushing  petals. 

Mrs.  Palmer  threw  up  her  hands  in  admiring  amazement. 

"Oh,  father!"  she  exclaimed,  "what  a  beauty!  I 
never  in  all  my  born  days  sot  my  eyes  on  anything  that 
come  up  to  that." 

"I  thought  that  I  could  trust  to  Bayley,"  answered  the 
pleased  husband,  satisfied,  now  that  his  wife  endorsed  the 
merchant's  selection  ;  and  he  went  on  while  she  made  a 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  9 

tactile  examination  of  the  fabric.  "  He  said  the  goods 
came  in  a  ship  that  got  in  last  week,  and  this  was  the 
handsomest  pattern  among  them.  It's  the  real  French. 
He'd  warrant  it." 

"  Anybody'd  know  that  it  was,  at  half  a  glance.  How 
much  did  you  give  for  it,  father?"  Mrs.  Palmer  had  the 
instinctive  economy  of  a  New  England  housewife. 

"  It  was  a  dollar  a  yard.  I  wanted  to  get  the  very  best, 
you  know." 

"  Well,  it  looks  worth  every  cent  of  it.  "What  will 
Grace  say  ?" 

"  Call  her  down,  jest  as  though  nothing  had  happened," 
said  the  father. 

And  the  mother  went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
called : 

"Grace!  Grace!" 

The  low  hum  of  the  spinning-wheel  ceased  suddenly  in 
the  south  chamber,  and  the  little  feet,  which  had  been  so 
diligently  working  the  treadles  for  the  last  two  hours,  to 
snatches  of  old  psalm-tunes  or  sweet  country  airs,  paused 
in  their  work,  the  wheel  stopped  its  rapid  revolutions,  and 
Grace  Palmer  sat  still,  with  her  head  leaned  a  little  forward 
to  listen. 

It  was  a  finely  shaped  "head,  in  its  thick  folds  of  dark 
bright  hair ;  the  face  had  a  rare  combination  of  delicacy, 
intelligence,  and  sweetness  ;  not  in  anywise  was  it  the  deli 
cacy  which  soft  and  luxurious  habits  bestow.  In  the  fair 
young  cheeks  bloomed  the  roses  that  out  door  exercise 
and  daily  work  had  planted  there ;  and  the  full  lips  had 
the  deep,  fresh  tint  of  the  scarlet  berries  which  flamed 
like  a  red  torch  around  the  small  mirror  on  the  mantel. 
But  all  the  outlines  were  delicate,  and  oval ;  and  the  eyes, 

1* 


10  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

of  an  intense  blue,  were  full  of  hidden  smiles,  and  yet 
they  could  settle  down  into  deep  gravity,  and  fine  scorn. 

She  was  neither  genius  nor  angel,  but  a  sweet,  lovable, 
and  intelligent  woman,  full  of  warm  and  generous  im 
pulses,  that,  under  the  watchful,  prayerful  culture  of  her 
childhood,  promised  to  ripen  into  fixed  and  Christian  prin 
ciples,  instead  of  developing  after  their  own  will  in  merely 
aesthetic  directions. 

The  south  chamber,  where  Grace  Palmer  sat  spinning 
linen  after  the  custom  of  the  maidens  of  her  day  and  gene 
ration,  was  her  own  room ;  and  its  two  windows  commanded 
a  fine  sweep  of  low  meadows,  with  a  little  silver  brocading 
of  streams,  and  level  pastures,  and  strips  of  woodland 
leaning  to  the  Sound.  In  one  corner  was  the  high-post 
bedstead,  with  its  snowy  curtains  and  deep  fringes,  and  the 
two  heavily  carved  arm-chairs,  and  the  great  mahogany 
chest,  with  its  brass  handles,  which  her  great-grandfather 
had  brought  over  the  waters  when  he  came  to  plant  his 
roof-tree  in  the  wilderness,  completed  the  furniture  of  the 
chamber. 

"Grace!  Grace!" 

This  time  the  voice  was  louder  and  hurried,  and  the  girl 
rose  up  hastily,  glancing  at  the  sun  on  the  sanded  floor ; 
and  murmuring  to  herself,  "  I'm  sure  it  can't  be  time  to 
get  supper  for  an  hour  yet,"  she  hurried  down  to  the 
kitchen. 

"  Why,  you're  home  early,  father,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
start  of  surprise,  as  she  entered  the  room. 

"  Yes,  my  child.  Have  you  forgotten  that  it  is  your 
birth-day  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  but  how  came  you  to  remember  it  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  it's  a  matter  of  so  little  consequence  to 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  11 

your  father,  Grace,  that  he  forgot  it  was  nineteen  years  ago, 
to-day,  you  came  to  him,  the  first  of  his  flock  ?" 

She  looked  up  in  the  weather-beaten  face  with  a  smile 
that  was  pretty  to  see  ;  and  then  he  took  the  calico  dress, 
which  Mrs.  Palmer  had  slipped  on  one  side  of  him  before 
Grace's  entrance. 

"  There,  daughter ;  there's  a  birth-day  present  of  a  new 
gown  for  you !" 

"  Oh,  father !"  the  sweet  face  flushing  into  a  great  light 
and  pleasure. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  to  beat  that  ?"  interposed 
Mrs.  Palmer,  as  her  daughter  unrolled  the  fabric,  and  held 
a  breadth  up  to  her  waist. 

lf Never,  mother;  never,"  exclaimed  the  delighted  girl; 
44  and  deep  pink  is  my  color,  too." 

"  It  used  to  be  mine,"  added  Mrs.  Palmer. 

"  Yes ;  I  remember  the  first  time  that  I  ever  set  eyes  on 
you,  Patience,  you  had  on  a  pink  gown.  It  was  at  the 
old  turnpike  tavern ;  and  we  had  a  dance  and  a  supper 
there,  and  I  thought  you  beat  all  the  other  girls  hollow." 

"  Oh,  Daniel,  it's  too  late  to  talk  about  them  days 
now!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer;  but  her  faded  face  flushed 
with  pleasure  at  her  husband's  praise,  into  something  of 
the  lost  fairness  of  its  youth. 

"  Oh,  it  is  lovely  !"  exclaimed  Grace,  plaiting  up  a 
breadth  of  the  dress,  and  walking  back  and  forth,  and 
drawing  a  long  sigh  of  satisfaction  ;  "  and  it'll  be  such 
a  beauty  to  wear  to  the  husking  party  next  Wednesday 
night," 

"  I  expect  you'll  outshine  all  the  other  girls,"  added 
Deacon  Palmer,  with  the  smile  which  always  made  a  plea 
sant  light  on  the  weather-beaten  face. 


12  BATTLE  FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  Now,  father,  don't  make  her  vain ;  don't,"  subjoined 
Mrs.  Palmer,  in  a  slightly  deprecatory  tone. 

"Nonsense,  mother;  she's  got  too  good  sense  to  be  that. 
Come,  daughter,  go  down  stairs  now,  and  draw  me  a  pitcher 
of  that  new  cider  to  pay  for  your  dress." 

Grace  rolled  up  the  calico  with  alacrity,  and  soon  re 
turned  from  the  cellar  with  a  large  yellow  pitcher  filled 
with  the  amber  liquid.  Deacon  Palmer  blew  off  the  crest 
of  foam  on  the  top,  and  pouring  out  a  glass  of  the  cider, 
turned  to  his  daughter,  saying : 

"  Here's  to  your  birth-day,  Grace  ;"  and  then  that  deep 
and  fervent  piety  which  was  with  the  old  farmer  a  living 
faith,  underlying  his  whole  life,  broke  forth  in  his  sotemn 
"  The  Lord  God  of  your  fathers,  my  daughter,  give  }TOU 
returns  of  this  birth-day,  until  they  shall  reach  down  to  a 
good  old  age,  and  fill  them  with  peace  and  blessings,  and 
make  the  light  of  His  countenance  to  shine  upon  you  and 
keep  you." 

The  tears  came  into  the  blue  eyes  of  Grace  Palmer. 
With  a  sudden  impulse  she  threw  her  arms  around  her 
father's  neck  and  kissed  his  brown  "cheek  with  her  bright 
lips.  This  was  something  very  unusual,  for  demonstrative 
affection  was  in  Deacon  Palmer's  household,  as  in  most 
Puritan  families,  a  thing  little  known.  Its  channels  ran 
deep  and  broad  as  life  itself;  but  they  seldom  reached  to 
the  surface.  Deacon  Palmer  drank  his  cider  in  silence,  and 
his  wife  rose  at  last  and  shook  her  quince  skins  into  the 
empty  basket. 

"  Be  spry,  now,  and  fold  up  your  dress,  Grace,"  said  the 
bustling  little  woman  ;  u  it's  high  time  we  had  the  tea-ket 
tle  on  ;  and  I  want  to  make  Johnny-cake  for  tea.  It  al'ays 
sets  so  nice  with  cold  ham." 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  13 

"So  it  does,  mother.  I'll  go  and  attend  to  the  cattle 
now,  and  you  may  count  on  my  bringin'  back  an  alarmin' 
appetite  to  supper.  That  ere  cider's  up  to  the  mark  this 
time  !"  smacking  his  lips  over  a  second  glass,  and  then  hur 
rying  out  to  the  barn. 

But  a  voice  which  had  been  quiet  for  an  unparalleled 
period  now  suddenly  called  out : 

"  Papa,  mayn't  I  go  down  and  see  the  white  calf  and  the 
oxen  ?" 

Deacon  Palmer  turned  round,  and  saw  the  shining  head 
standing  like  a  picture  in  the  brown  frame-work  of  the 
kitchen  door. 

"  Papa's  little  man  !  To  be  sure,  he  may  go  !"  turning 
back,  and  catching  up  his  youngest  born  and  setting  him 
on  his  shoulder,  where  the  child  crowed  with  delight. 

Half  an  hour  later,  as  Grace  Palmer  was  spreading  over 
the  cherry  table  a  snowy  cloth,  which  her  mother's  hands 
had  spun  before  her  remembrance,  Mrs.  Palmer's  voice 
suddenly  called  from  the  pantry — 

"  Grace,  do  take  the  sprinkler,  and  go  down  and  wet 
that  linen  I've  spread  out  to  bleach  at  the  fence  by  the 
currant-bushes ;  I  want  it  to  have  another  good  sprinklin' 
afore  dark." 

The  garden  was  fenced  off  from  the  main  road  by  a 
thick  line  of  currant-bushes.  There  was  but  little  tra 
velling  on  that  road,  and  Grace  did  not  hear  the  sound  of 
horses'  feet  in  the  soft  sand  until  they  were  close  upon  her. 
She  did  not  suspect,  either,  what  a  picture  she  made  in 
her  brown  gingham  dress,  and  the  little  bit  of  white  ruf 
fling  around  her  neck,  with  tho  great  watering-pot  in  her 
hand,  "as  she  turned  hastily  and  confronted  the  riders. 

She  recognised  the  elder  inmate  at  once,  as  he  lifted  his 


14  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

hat  to  Tier,  for  Parson  Willetts  was  a  gentleman  of  the  old 
school,  and  a  representative  type  of  the  old  Puritan  minis 
ter.  He  was  a  man  of  dignified  and  venerable  aspect,  of 
stately  presence  and  manners,  and  his  head  was  white  as 
the  snows  of  the  seventy  winters  of  his  life.  He  was  re 
garded  with  that  peculiar  awe  and  affection  which  his  office 
always  inspired  in  the  hearts  of  a  people  whose  life  was 
shaped  and  colored  by  their  religious  faith  and  experience 
— a  people  with  whom  this  was  no  sentiment,  no  aesthetic 
emotion,  but  a  living,  sublime  reality,  underlying  and  inter 
penetrating  all  others  with  its  lofty  claims,  its  hopes  and 
fears,  that  beyond  reached  far  out  from  time,  and  took  hold 
on  eternity— a  religion  which  accepted  no  compromise,  and 
shrank  at  no  sacrifice,  but  demanded  purity  and  holiness 
in  every  thought  and  deed,  and  met  all  the  joys  and  sor 
rows  of  life,  all  its  doubts,  and  mysteries,  and  dread,  with 
its  sublime 

"  Thus  saith  the  Lord." 

By  the  side  of  Parson  Willetts  rode  his  nephew,  a 
young  man  of  twenty-five,  who  had  graduated  at  Yale 
College  that  year,  and  he  was  now  on  a  visit  to  his 
uncle. 

The  roses  widened  in  the  cheeks  of  Grace  Palmer,  as 
she  caught  a  pair  of  very  dark  eyes  bent  with  surprise  on 
her  face,  and  the  young  gentleman  lifted  his  cap  after  the 
courtly  fashion  of  the  time. 

"  Well,  that  is  the  sweetest  face  I've  looked  on  for  a 
long  time,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  as  the  two  rode  on. 
"  Whose  was  it,  Uncle  Jeremiah." 

"  Her  name  is  Grace  Palmer,  Edward,"  said  the  old 
clergyman.  <(  She  is  an  extremely  well-favored  young 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  15 

woman,  modest,  intelligent,  and  well-bred,  the  daughter 
of  my  oldest  deacon." 

"  One  would  know  she  was  all  that  with  the  first  glance 
at  her  face,  Uncle  Jeremiah.  You  must  take  me  round  to 
your  deacon's  before  I  leave." 

A  shrewd  smile  lighted  up  the  grave  features  of  the 
grey-haired  old  clergyman,  as  he  looked  down  on  his 
nephew.  Parson  "Willetts  had  a  reputation  throughout 
the  State  for  the  soundness  of  his  theological  tenets  and 
the  weight  of  his  polemical  discourses  ;  but,  notwithstand 
ing  his  controversial  tendency  and  extreme  orthodoxy,  a 
heart  full  of  warm  and  living  sympathies  throbbed  be 
neath  them,  and,  looking  on  his  nephew,  a  wind  blew  up 
softly  from  the  land  of  his  youth. 

"  I  intended  to  call  there  on  some  church  business 
before  the  week  was  out." 

"Just  the  right  opportunity  for  me,"  laughed  the  young 
man.  "You  shall  talk  with  the  deacon,  uncle,  and  of 
course  there'll  be  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  converse  with 
the  daughter." 

"I  don't  see  that  there  will;"  and  the  minister  thought, 
though  he  did  not  say  it :  "I  was  young  once  myself." 

Grace  Palmer  went  up  to  the  house  with  the  dark  eyes 
so  bright  in  her  memory,  that  the  roses  were  still  wide  in 
her  cheeks.  Before  she  had  reached  the  door-stone,  howr 
ever,  a  hand  was  laid  suddenly  on  her  shoulder.  She 
turned  with  a  little  start,  but  no  shriek,  for  Grace  was  too 
healthful  and  active  to  be  very  nervous. 

"Oh,  Robert,  that  is  just  like  you." 

The  girl  looked  into  a  bright,  spirited  young  face,  tanned 
to  a  deep  brown,  the  forehead  half  hidden  by  a  mass  of 
crisp,  dark  hair. 


16  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  What  have  you  been  up  to  this  afternoon  ?" 

"Come  down  to  the  gate  with  me,  and  I'll  show  you." 

"  I  can't ;  there's  the  supper  to  get." 

"  Oh,  it  wont  take  you  half  a  minute.  Come,  now,  sis ;" 
and  he  slipped  his  arm  about  her  waist  and  hurried  her 
half- reluctant  to  the  gate. 

"  Haven't  I  had  good-luck  this  afternoon  ?"  pointing  to 
a  peck  of  chestnuts  which  piled  up  a  basket  at  the  gate. 

"  Oh,  yes !  Why,  Robert,  have  you  got  these  since 
school  ?"  slipping  her  hand  among  the  great,  brown  nuts. 

"  Every  one.  They're  thick  as  berries  this  year,  and  the 
frost  we  had  night  before  last  has  tumbled  them  out  of 
their  burrs." 

"  We'll  boil  them  this  very  night — Why,  grandma,  how 
in  the  world !" 

This  sudden  ejaculation  was  occasioned  by  the  appear 
ance  of  a  very  old  woman,  leaning  on  a  staff,  and  wearing 
a  linsey-woolsey  gown,  who  suddenly  appeared  on  the  lane 
close  at  their  right  hand. 

"  How  do  you  do,  children  ?"  she  panted,  as  she  slowly 
drew  up  to  them.  "  No  wonder  you  look  struck  on  seein' 
me;  but  the  truth  is,  I  thought  this  Injin  summer  would 
be  the  last  chance  that  I  should  have  to  put  my  face  inside 
your  door  this  year  ;  for,  you  may  depend,  there's  cold  and 
Storm  enough  lies  just  beyond  the  pleasant  weather." 

"  Well,  grandma,  we're  all  real  glad  to  see  you.  Come 
right  up  to  the  house,"  adapting  their  light,  swift  steps  to 
the  slow,  hobbling  ones  of  the  old  woman. 

Mrs.  Comfort  Pulmer  was  the  deacon's  mother,  and  her 
life  had  toiled  past  its  eightieth  year,  and  the  long  per 
spective  of  its  memory  swept  through  many  of  the  great 
tragedies  which  fill  the  early  history  of  the  Colonies. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  17 

She  had  passed  a  score  of  years  on  the  frontiers  when 
tae  white  settlements  were  constantly  invaded  by  the 
savages,  and  she  had  lived  in  that  long  terror  of  the  war- 
whoop  and  the  scalping:knife  which  haunted  the  early 
settlers  of  our  country. 

She  had  seen  the  homes  of  her  neighbors  wrapped  in 
flames,  and  heard  their  death-shrieks  filling  the  still,  mid 
night  air ;  and,  forty  years  before,  her  husband  had  been 
laid  dead  at  her  feet,  killed  in  a  skirmish  with  the  savages. 

So  the  deep  wrinkles  on  her  face  had  not  all  been  worn 
there  by  her  years ;  and  yet  the  old  woman  had  kept  her 
strong,  brave  heart  to  the  end ;  and  now,  bowed  with  the 
weight  of  her*fou/-score  years,  was  waiting  at  the  west 
windows  of  her  life  for  the  voice  of  the  God  of  her  youth. 

Mrs.  Comfort  Palmer  found  a  hearty  welcome  from  the 
whole  household  of  her  son.  She  was  soon  ensconced  by 
the  warmest  corner  of  the  kitchen  fire-place,  and  after  the 
greetings  were  over,  and  the  brown  hood  and  shawl  re 
moved,  Grace's  mother  said  to  her — 

"  Go  and  get  your  new  dress,  and  show  it  to  grandma, 
Grace." 

The  old  woman  put  on  her  iron-bowed  spectacles,  and 
peered  with  her  dim  eyes  at  the  calico  which  her  grand 
daughter  placed  on  her  lap. 

"  It's  handsome  as  a  picter,  Grace.  You  must  lay  it  by 
for  your  weddin'  dress.  I  wouldn't  think  of  wearin'  it 
afore  that  time." 

"Goodness,  grandma!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  with  a  little 
flush  and  a  toss  of'  her  bright  head,  "  I  shouldn't  think 
of  being  married  in  anything  less  than  silk." 

"  Ah,  dear  me!"  sighed  the  old  woman,  "  the  vanity  of 
these  times  is  enough  to  make  one  tremble.  When  I  was 


18  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

a  gal,  a  caliker  gown  was  thought  good  enough  to  be  mar 
ried  in,  and  gals  was  proud  enough  to  go  in  linsey- 
woolsey  to  a  singin'  school  or  a  huskin' ;  but  now,  notMn' 
short  o'  foreign  goods  will  do ;  and,  as  for  standin'  up  to 
be  married  in  the  gown  their  own  hands  had  spun,  as  the 
best  on  'em  was  proud  to,  in  my  day,  you  don't  heaton't. 
This  world's  got  to  a  dreadful  pass !  I  sometimes  think 
the  end's  nigher  than  we  know  on !"  And  the  old  woman 
shook  her  head  and  looked  solemn  and  significant  into  the 
golden  coils  of  flame  which  were  darting  about  the  fore- 
stick. 

"Oh,  well,  mother,"  interposed  Deacoo|  Palmer,  with 
his  shrewd  common  sense,  as  he  sat  witlr  Benjamin  perched 
on  his  knee,  his  black,  saucy  eyes  curiously  inspecting  his 
grandmother,  "  you  know  matters  have  changed  a  great 
deal  since  you  was  a  young  woman,  and  some  for  the 
better,  that's  sartin.  It  isn't  best  to  conclude  the  world's 
grown  any  worse  'cause  it's  got  older.  Some  things  grow 
better  by  keepin',  jest  like  yourself." 

A  smile  smoothed  some  of  the  wrinkles  in  the  withered 
face,  for  this  delicate  compliment  of  her  son's  went  very 
far  towards  reconciling  the  old  woman  to  the  present  order 
of  affairs. 

"  Grandma,  you  wasn't  ever  a  young  woman,  was  you  ?" 
exclaimed  Benjamin,  slipping  off  his  father's  knee  at  this 
juncture,  and  running  over  to  his  grandmother  and  staring 
her  in  the  face. 

"  Yes,  you  little  spiled  child,  I  was  once,"  answered  the 
old  woman,  placing  her  withered  hand  fondly  on  the 
bright  young  head. 

"  Come,  all  hands ;  supper's  ready !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Palmer,  as  she  placed  a  smoking  Johnny-cake  where  it 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  19 

was  flanked  with  cold  ham,  and  tempting  crullers,  and 
honey,  and  delicious  rye  bread,  and  fresh  butter ;  and  a 
moment  later,  the  shining  grey  hairs,  and  the  shining 
golden  ones,  were  alike  bowed,  as  Deacon  Palmer  thanked 
God  for  the  setting  sun  which  had  gathered  them  all  in 
peace  and  gladness  around  the  board  He  had  spread  for 
them  once  more. 


20  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  H. 

in  that  autumn  of  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy- 
four,  how  many  families,  like  that  of  Deacon  Palmer,  sat  in 
peace  under  their  own  vine  and  fig-tree  in  the  fair  young 
land  of  America! 

My  pen  loves  to  dwell  upon  that  time,  bffore  God's  hand 
opened  before  them  the  awful  tragedraf  of  the  Revolution 
— before  those  fair  fields  and  pleasant  homes  were  darkened 
by  the  blast  of  war,  which,  -with  the  birds  of  the  next  spring, 
swept  through  all  the  land. 

For  twelve  years,  since  the  close  of  the  Pontiac  war, 
with  all  its  horrors,  there  had  been  peace  throughout  the 
Colonies.  Those  twelve  years  had  been  a  blessed  season 
of  peace  and  growth  and  development  to  the  young  land, 
which  was  so  soon  to  take  her  proud  place  amid  the  nations 
of  the  earth.  Our  fathers  had  planted  and  sown,  and 
gathered  in  their  goodly  harvests,  and  our  mothers  had 
spun  their  linen  to  sweet  psalm-tunes.  Stately  grew  their 
sons,  and  fair  their  daughters  about  them,  in  the  beautiful 
land  of  their  adoption.  The  tenderness  for  the  "  mother 
country,"  the  yearning  for  the  hawthorn  hedges  and  the 
morning  lark-songs,  which  distinguished  the  early  pioneers, 
and  gave  them  somewhat  the  feeling  of  "  sojourners  in  a 
strange  land,"  had  passed  away  before  the  opening  of  the 
Revolution.  The  affections  of  our  fathers  had  taken  deep 
and  lasting  root  in  the  land  of  their  birth. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  21 

Here  was  gathered  all  which,  they  loved  on  earth — here 
were  the  homes  they  had  reared,  and  the  altars  where  they 
worshipped  God  according  to  their  free  consciences.  Here, 
on  many  a  green  hillside,  were  the  graves  watered  by 
their  tears,  and  under  which  slept  the  dear  forms  they  had 
laid  there  in  the  hope  of  a  resurrection  unto  life  immortal. 
Was  it  strange  that  our  fathers  and  our  mothers  loved  their 
country  with  a  love  which  was  mightier  than  life  ?  Had 
not  her  deserts  rejoiced  at  their  coming,  and  her  wildernesses 
blossomed  as  the  rose  before  their  toil?  Was  it  strange 
that  they  answered  a  little  later  with  one  heart  at  her 
summons,  and  for  her  sake  "  slaked  the  grass  of  Lexing 
ton,  and  reddened  -the  snows  of  Valley  Forge  with  their 
blood?" 

A  prayerful  and  a  God-fearing  people  beyond  any  which 
the  world  had  ever  seen,  in  many  respects  the  best  and 
the  noblest  men  and  women  the  sun  had  ever  shone  on, 
they  went  through  that  long  and  fiery  path  of  the  seven 
years'  war  with  a  courage  that  never  faltered,  and  a  faith 
in  the  final  triumph  of  their  cause  which  lifted  them  into 
a  sublime  heroism  of  endurance  and  self-sacrifice. 

And  that  last  bloodless  autumn  walked  smiling  over  the 
land,  dropping  its  goodly  harvests  in  every  granary,  shaking 
its  golden  fruits  on  the  green  lap  of  the  rejoicing  earth,  as 
a  decade  of  autumns  had  done  before. 

One  loves  to  think  of  them  all — of  those  pleasant  ten  years, 
with  the  hum  of  the  spinning-wheels  in  all  the  peaceful 
homes,  and  the  click  of  the  sweep  in  all  the  green  fields — 
of  the  huskings  and  the  quiltings,  the  dances  and  the 
sleighings,  and,  best  of  all,  the  prayer  meetings  and  the 
Sabbath  days. 

We  seem  to  see  the  old  firesides,  and  the  glow  of  the 


22  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

hickory  flames  fill  the  low  rooms  with  a  crimson  light, 
richer  and  more  picturesque  than  the  tropics,  where,  in 
the  long  winter  evenings,  they  knit  stockings,  and  cracked 
nuts,  and  drank  cider,  and  told  their  children  those  fearful 
tales  of  the  savage  wars  on  the  frontiers  which  filled  every 
home  with  a  shudder. 

They  saw  it  all — the  awful  war-whoop  bursting  sud 
denly  on  the  stillness  of  the  midnight,  the  rush  of  the 
painted  savages,  the  glare  of  the  flames  as  they  crackled 
along  the  little  settlements;  and  the  mother  woke  from 
sleep  and  clasped  her  frightened  babe  with  a  last  cry 
to  her  heart,  and  the  father  seized  his  musket;  but  the 
next  moment  the  door  was  burst  open,  there  was  a  wild 
flash  of  the  tomahawk,  and  — 

The  next  morning's  sun  looked  down,  and  where  last  it 
had  shone  upon  low  dwellings  in  the  midst  of  waving  corn 
fields,  there  was  a  heap  of  blackened  rafters,  and  the  strong 
man,  and  the  mother  with  her  sweet  lullaby,  and  the 
smiling  little  child,  lay  white  and  ghastly  among  them. 

And  they  lived  over  all  these  tragedies  in  the  stories 
they  told  by  their  peaceful  firesides,  and  the  little  children 
grew  pale  as  they  listened  before  the  Revolution. 

"  The  front  room's  all  lighted  up.  I  wonder  if  we've  got 
company,"  exclaimed  Grace  Palmer  to  herself,  as  she 
turned  from  the  lane  into  the  road  which  led  past  her 
house,  -a  few  evenings  after  her  birth-day. 

It  had  only  been  dark  about  an  hour;  and  she  was 
returning  from  a  neighbor's,  who  had  just  arrived  from 
Hartford ;  and  Grace  had  run  over  after  tea  to  see  if  she 
had  brought  any  new  fashions  with  her,  for  she  intended 
to  commence  on  her  calico  dress  the  next  day. 

The  young  girl  hurried  along  the  road,  her  eyes  fastened 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  23 

on  the  light  which  streamed  from  the  "  best  room"  of  the 
farm-house,  and  which  was  only  opened  for  distinguished 
guests  and  on  state  occasions.  She  went  softly  round  the 
back  path  to  the  kitchen  door,  intending  to  reconnoitre 
a  little.  She  was  met  there  by  her  brother. 

"  Oh,  Grace,  mother's  just  sent  me  to  hunt  you  up. 
Who  do  you  think  has  come  1" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Anybody  I  shall  have  to 
see  ?"  complacently  reflecting  that  she  had  on  her  Scotch 
gingham  dress,  with  its  pretty  red  plaid,  and  a  black  silk 
apron,  which  suited  it  so  nicely;  for  Grace  Palmer  was 
only  nineteen,  with  thoroughly  feminine  tastes  and  feelings. 

"It's  Parson  "Willetts  and  his  nephew,  just  from  Yale 
College.  You  needn't  feel  flustered"  for  Grace  threw  off 
her  sun-bonnet  in  a  startled  way,  which  made  her  brother 
think  she  needed  reassuring. 

In  a  moment  the  rumpled  hair  was  smoothed  before  the 
kitchen  mirror,  and  Grace  went  into  the  "  best  room." 
She  had  been  walking  rapidly,  and  perhaps  that  was  the 
reason  why  there  was  an  unusual  bloom  on  her  cheeks, 
a  little  heightened  by  the  red  plaid  dress. 

The  parlor  was  a  large,  wide  room,  and  was  furnished 
with  more  pretension  to  gentility  than  most  of  the  "best 
rooms"  of  farm-houses  at  that  period.  For  instance,  there 
was  a  carpet  on  the  floor,  in  red  and  yellow  stripes,  which 
Mrs.  Palmer  had  woven  herself;  there  was  an  old  stuffed 
mahogany  lounge,  which  had  been  sent  to  Mrs.  Palmer's 
mother  by  her  sister  in  England,  and  the  sides  and  back 
were  studded  thick-  with  bright  brass  nails ;  there  was  also 
a  small  mahogany  bookcase  with  glass  doors,  and  inside 
of  this  a  considerable  library  for  that  period.  There  was 
Sir  Mathew  Hale's  Contemplations,  moral  and  divine,  in 


24  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR   FATHERS. 

blue  binding.  There  was  Rollin's  Ancient  History,  in 
brown  ;  and  next  to  this,  in  unpretending  grey  covers,  was 
the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  that  wonderful  prose  poem,  which 
was  like  some  subtle  alchemy  transmuting  the  stern,  prac 
tical  life  of  our  Puritan  fathers  into  warm,  rich  colors, 
striking  out  in  pictures  that  their  hearts  recognised  the 
great  tragedies  of  human  life,  its  struggles,  its  defeats,  its 
triumphs,  and  making  of  every  day's  toil  and  trials,  its 
sorrows  and  joys,  milestones  along  that  mysterious  journey 
over  which  watched  an  innumerable  company  of  witnesses  ; 
the  serene,  loving  gaze  of  the  angels ;  the  fiery  and  hateful 
one  of  evil  spirits,  "seeking  to  devour." 

The  principal  furniture  of  the  room  was  completed  by 
two  arm-chairs,  cushioned  with  naming  chintz  patterns, 
and  a  table  with  a  woollen  cover,  daintily  embroidered 
with  green  leaves  and  purple  clusters,  by  Grace's  own  hands. 

Parson  Willetts  had  always  a  warm  greeting  for  the 
Deacon's  pretty  daughter ;  and  after  it  was  over,  he  intro 
duced  her,  in  his  kind  but  stately  fashion,  to  his  young 
nephew,  Edward  Dudley,  who  had  just  left  college. 

Grace  was  a  little  embarrassed  as  the  young  gentleman 
led  her  to  a  chair;  for  he  was,  in  all  respects,  far  above 
the  honest,  plain  young  farmers  of  the  neighborhood.  But 
Grace  Palmer  was  a  simple,  natural,  sensible  girl,  without 
any  arts  and  affectations;  moreover,  her  well  poised  mind 
and  industrious  habits  kept  her  from  all  morbid  fancies, 
and  feverish,  imaginary  dreams  and  visions  of  an  impossible 
future.  Her  moral  and  mental  nature  had  been  enervated 
by  few  of  the  golden  visions  in  which  fashionable  young 
ladies  of  the  present  day  indulge. 

She  could  not  play  the  piano  nor  speak  French,  but  she 
had  studied  Latin  for  two  years.  She  had  read  Eollin's 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  25 

and  other  Histories,  and  never  left  a  book  until  she  mas 
tered  it.  Then  she  had,  with  her  bright  intelligence,  that 
natural  grace  of  movement  and  manner  which  we  call 
"  lady-like."  The  young  graduate  and  the  deacon's  daugh 
ter  fell  at  once  into  a  brisk  conversation. 

It  was  pleasant  to  watch  the  bright,  earnest  look  in  Grace 
Palmer's  brown  eyes — a  pleasant  thing  to  hear  the  laugh 
which  leaped  out  of  her  lips  at  some  sally  of  her  com 
panion's.  Edward  'Dudlqy,  although  he  was  naturally  of  a 
grave  and  studious  turn,  had  a  vein  of  wit  which  made 
him  a  very  amusing  companion. 

Parson  Willetts  and  Deacon  Palmer  had  finished  up  the 
"church  business,"  while  his  wife  "toed  off"  a  child's 
stocking,  and  "  snuffed"  the  candles,  in  the  two  shining 
brass  candlesticks  on  the  table.  Then  their  talk  went  a 
little  while  into  ordinary  channels — on  the  prosperity  of 
the  town,  the  crops  for  that  year  ;  and  at  length  it  took  up 
the  topic  which  was  now  become  the  principal  one  by 
every  fireside  and  among  every  circle  which  gathered 
together  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  with  anxious,  thought 
ful  faces,  throughout  the  land  that  autumn. 

"Our  Congress  keeps  together  a  long  time  down  there 
in  Philadelphy,  Parson  Willetts,"  said  the  Deacon. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  subjoined  Parson  Willetts,  settling  himself 
back  in  the  chintz-cushioned  chair.  "  They've  got  busi 
ness  on  hand  which  can't  be  done  up  in  a  day.  The  liber 
ties  and  the  happiness  of  three  millions  of  people  depend 
on  their  decisions;  and  it's  a  time  to  be  slow  and  wise 
when  one  thinks  of  this." 

"That's  a  fact,  Parson  Willetts,"  responded  Deacon 
Palmer,  shaking  his  head.  "  Things  look  dark  enough  for 
our  country  just  now." 

2 


26  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

"Dark  enough,  sir;  dark  enough.  "VVe  need  a  double 
measure  of  faith  to  carry  us  through  this  time  of  wrong 
and  injustice  in  the  high  places  in  the  earth." 

"  That's  true,  Parson.  If  the  Lord  don't  come  up  to  our 
help  against  the  mighty,  what  is  to  come  of  us?  We've 
sent  petition,  memorial,  and  remonstrance  to  King,  and 
Parliament,  and  Commons,  without  avail.  They  seem 
bent  on  depriving  us  of  our  rights.  Look,  sir,  at  their 
closing  the  port  of  Boston,  and  filling  her  harbor  with 
ships  of  war,  and  quarterin'  her  troops  on  the  inhabitants ; 
it  makes  my  blood  bile  to  think  of  it." 

'•Father,  father,  don't  now!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer 
for  the  Deacon  had  got  excited,  and  brought  his  hand  down 
on  the  table  in  a  most  belligerent  fashion  for  so  peaceable 
a  man. 

"  Let  him  speak  out,  Mrs.  Palmer,"  interposed  Parson 
Willetts.  "  It's  no  time  for  us  to  keep  crying  peace,  when 
there  is  no  peace.  Deacon  Palmer,  you  speak  the  truth. 
We  can  never  submit  to  it ;  to  see  our  rights  as  freemen. — 
our  rights  as  British  subjects — our  chartered  rights,  taken 
from  us;  our  men  torn  from  the  country,  to  be  tried  in 
foreign  courts ;  a  standing  army  quartered  upon  us — Par 
liament  imposing  taxes  without  the  consent  of  our  legisla 
tures,  to  get  a  revenue  out  of  us — I  repeat,  sir,  we  are  not 
a  race  of  slaves  to  submit  to  these  things !" 

The  fire  of  his  youth  glowed  in  the  eyes  of  Parson  Wil 
letts  now.  The  calm  face  burned  with  indignation  as  he 
recounted  the  wrongs  of  his  countrymen,  and  the  candle 
light  flickered  in  his  snowy  hair. 

"  We've  tried  every  means  to  reach  them,  but  it's  failed. 
We've  refused  to  take  their  manufactures,  and  distressed 
their  trade;  but  Lord  North,  like  George  Grenville  afore 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  27 

him,  seems  bent  on  carryin'  this  taxation  bill  through,  and 
forcin'  our  rights  from  us." 

"  Precisely  so,  Deacon  Palmer.  My  hopes  are  all  cen 
tred  in  this  Congress  now.  It  was  a  blessed  day  for  our 
country  when  the  Virginia  legislature  met  in  the  '  old 
Raleigh  tavern,'  and  denounced  the  Boston  Port  Bill,  and 
devised  the  plan  of  the  Congress,  which  all  the  other  Colo 
nies  so  cordially  endorsed. 

"  Virginia,  sir,  has  espoused  the  cause  of  her  sister  Colony, 
Massachusetts,  as  though  the  act  which  left  the  ships  of 
Boston  rotting  at  its  wharves,  and  the  grass  growing  in  its 
pleasant  streets,  had  been  a  blow  aimed  right  at  her  own 
heart.  God  remember  it  of  the  noble  old  province,  and 
give  strength  and  prosperity  to  her  future !" 

"Amen!"  said  Deacon  Palmer,  fervently.  "Massachu 
setts  will  not  soon  forget  the  debt  of  gratitude  which  she 
owes  Virginia.  Our  only  hope  and  strength  is  in  Union, 
and  a  blow  aimed  at  one  of  our  Colonies  is  a  blow  aimed 
at  the  very  life  of  all." 

"That  is  true,"  interpolated  Edward  Dudley,  who  had 
listened  with  intense  feeling  to  every  word  of  the  con 
versation  between  his  uncle  and  the  Deacon,  his  lips  com 
pressed,  and  his  whole  face  kindled  with  feeling,  which 
showed  how  near  the  matter  lay  to  his  heart. 

"But,  Uncle  Jeremiah,  supposing  the  British  government 
is  resolved  on  violating  our  rights  as  her  subjects  ;  suppose 
that  her  Parliament,  as  hitherto,  will  treat  our  remon 
strances  with  contempt,  deprive  us  of  all  our  liberties, 
^continue  on  its  course  of  high-handed  injustice — bent  on 
crushing  us,  till,  as  Lord  North  says,  '  America  is  prostrate 
at  her  feet,'  what  in  this  case  are  the  British  Colonies 
to  do?" 


28  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUE  FATHERS. 

The  old  clergyman  rose  up  from  his  chair.  His  tall, 
thin  figure  seemed  to  expand  beyond  its  usual  altitude  in 
the  low  parlor;  a  great  light  flashed  out  from  the  thin, 
fine  old  face.  His  hearers  gazed  on  him  in  breathless 
silence. 

"  Then  there  is  but  one  last  thing  to  be  done,"  said  the 
solemn  voice  of  Parson  "Willetts.  "  Let  every  man  in  the 
British  Colonies  take  his  musket  on  his  shoulder  and  go 
out  and  fight  for  his  home,  for  his  rights,  for  his  children, 
for  all  that  a  man  holds  dearer  to  him  than  his  life ;  let 
him  fight  until  there  is  not  a  man  left  in  all  the  Colonies 
of  British  America  to  witness  her  shame  and  degradation  ; 
fight  until  all  our  wives  are  left  widows  and  our  children 
fatherless.  The  fair  vine  which  our  fathers  planted,  and 
under  whose  blessed  shadows  we  have  eaten  k  our  bread 
and  worshipped  our  God  in  peace,  shall  have  its  roots 
watered  with  our  best  blood  before  we  will  see  it  fall ; 
and  may  the  God  of  battles — the  God  whose  right  arm 
piled  up  into  a  mighty  wall  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea 
and  led  Israel  through  the  deep — be  on  our  side  and  give 
us  the  victory !" 

The  old  man  and  the  young,  the  mother  and  the  daughter, 
caught  the  spirit  of  patriotic  sacrifice  which  glowed  on  the 
lips  of  the  old  minister.  The  candlelight  shone  on  pale 
faces  sublimated  into  intense  but  not  demonstrative  en 
thusiasm. 

Edward  Dudley  spoke  first.  "When  the  time  comes, 
we'll  be  ready,  unc,le.  There  isn't  a  man  among  my  class 
mates  at  Yale  who  wouldn't  buckle  on  his  sword,  or  shoul 
der  his  musket  to-morrow,  and  lay  down  his  life  for  his 
country.  George  the  Third  and  his  Parliament  will  yet 
find  that  he's  got  freemen  to  deal  with." 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  29 

"I've  got  three  boys  in  heaven,  I  humbly  trust,  and 
two  on  earth,  Parson  Willetts,"  said  Deacon  Palmer, 
"  and  if  the  five  stood  young  men,  the  staff  of  my  old  age, 
before  me  to-day,  I'd  send  'em  every  one,  with  my  blessin', 
to  fight  for  their  country." 

"  And  I'd  bid  'em  God-spe'ed,  Daniel,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer ; 
and  the  stocking  lay.  in  her  lap,  and  her  faded  eyes  flashed 
through  her  tears. 

"  And  you  and  I  would  stay  at  home,  mother,  and  spin 
the  clothes,  and  heat  up  the  lead,  and  mould  it  into  bullets," 
added  Grace  Palmer. 

And  this  was  the  spirit  of  our  fathers  and  our  mothers. 

"  England  will  encounter  a  resistance  she  little  expects 
from  her  Colonies,  if  the  time  comes  when  she  shall  pour 
her  huge,  well-disciplined  armies  down  on.  us,"  said  Parson 
"Willetts,  as  he  resumed  his  seat. 

"  Yes,  and  her  armies  will  meet  a  foe  that's  used  to  war 
fare,"  interposed  the  Deacon.  "  We  could  have  managed 
that  old  Indian  war  on  the  frontier  better  without  'em  than 
we  did  with  'em.  Look  at  that  army  of  Braddock's,  and 
what  became  of  it.  Cut  up,  sir,  cut  up  and  put  to  rout 
by  an  ambuscade  of  savages ;  when,  if  the  general  had 
taken  the  advice  of  his  young  aide-de-camp,  George  Wash 
ington,  they'd  have  taken  Fort  Du  Quesne  afore  the  sun 
went  down,  and  likely  enough  without  strikin'  a  single 
blow." 

" Certainly  they  would,"  added  the  clergyman.  "That 
Indian  war  taught  us  one  good  lesson — that  whatever 
British  troops  might  do  on  their  own  soil,  they  weren't 
invincible  on  ours.  They're  not  used  to  fighting  in  a 
new  country,  and  there  are  plenty  of  noble  fellows  lying 
in  their  graves  to-day  who'd  have  been  above  ground 


30  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUK  FATHERS. 

this  hour  if  they'd  only  have  had  provincial  officers  to 
lead  them  in  that  campaign.  The  British  officers  are 
wedded  to  their  old  military  forms  and  systems,  and  those 
are  not  the  things  for  a  new  country  like  ours." 

"  That's  true  as  the  Gospel,  Pal-son.  It  was  outrageous 
the  way  that  war  was  carried  on  twenty  years  ago  on  the 
frontier.  It  might  have  been  put  an  end  to  in  half  the 
time,  if  the  British  commanders  hadn't  been  so  obstinate, 
and  held  the  provincials  in  such  contetnpt." 

Just  then  the  ancient  clock  in  the  kitchen  struck  nine. 
It  at  once  put  an  end  to  the  conversation,  which  had  been 
carried  on  for  the  last  hour  and  a  half  with  such  earnest 
ness  by  the  Deacon  and  his  guests. 

"Robert,"  said  the  farmer,  "you  run  down  cellar  and 
draw  a  pitcher  of  cider,  and  I'll  go  to  the  orchard  and  get 
a  basket  of  seek-no-furthers.  They've  done  finely  this 
year,  Parson." 

"It's  chilly  to-night,  father,  and  you'd  better  put  on 
your  greatcoat  if  you're  going  down  into  the  orchard,  for 
I'm  afraid  you'll  get  another  attack  of  rheumatis  in  your 
back,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  as  she  paused  on  the  way  to  the 
kitchen  for  a  loaf  of  her  raised  cake. 

"  Oh,  let  me  go  down  to  the  orchard,  father !"  exclaimed 
Grace,  springing  up.  "  I  like  to  gather  apples." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  can't  shake  the  tree,"  said  the  Dea 
con. 

"  I'll  volunteer  to  do  that  part,"  exclaimed  Edward, 
presenting  himself  at  Grace's  side.  "  Will  you  allow  me 
to  accompany  you,  Miss  Palmer  ?" 

Of  course  Grace  had  no  serious  objections  to  this  ar 
rangement,  and  she  was  quite  too  natural  and  truthful  to 
affect  any ;  so  her  mother  gave  her  a  small  wicker  basket, 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  31 

and  she  wrapped  a  shawl  about  her  head,  and  went  out  of 
the  back  door  with  Edward  Dudley. 

"  Let  me  have  the  basket,  please" — and  Grace  resigned 
it  into  his  hands. 

It  was  a  beautiful  autumn  night.  The  earth  lay  in  a 
silver  lake  of  moonlight,  that  softened  and  idealized  every 
object ;  the  trees  flamed  their  red  and  golden  splendors  in 
the  late  autumn,  and  even  the  old  brown  barn,  past  which 
the  road  to  the  orchard  lay,  looked  picturesque  in  the  sheet 
of  moonlight. 

"We  shall  have  to  let  down  the  bars,"  said  Grace, 
as  they  reached  a  cornfield,  beyond  which  lay  the  or 
chard. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  can  assist  you  over ;  the  bars  are  not 
high." 

Grace  looked  rueful  enough  at  the  idea  of  exhibiting 
her  agility  before  a  young  gentleman  who  had  graduated 
at  Yale  College  and  was  the  minister's  nephew  ;  but  the 
next  moment  she  was  seized  lightly  about  the  waist,  and, 
before  she  had  time  to  remonstrate,  she  was  gently  deposit 
ed  on  the  other  side  of  the  bars,  and  her  companion  vault 
ed  lightly  over  and  was  by  her  side. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Dudley,  I  wouldn't  have  believed  any 
mortal,  could  have  done  that  so  quick,"  exclaimed  Grace, 
only  half-recovered  from  her  surprise. 

"  Wouldn't  you,  Miss  Palmer,"  laughed  the  gentleman. 
"  Oh,  I.  can  give  you  stronger  proofs  of  my  agility  than 
that;"  and  from  this  time  their  talk  went  on  in  a  half-grave, 
half-playful  fashion  until  they  reached  the  orchard,  where 
"  greenin's,"  and  "  sheep-noses,"  lay  thick  in  the  brown 
grass. 

The  orchard  was  on  a  slight  elevation,  and  the  Sound 


32  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

lay  in  the  distance  before  them  like  a  great  shining  sea, 
with  the  white  sails  of  the  sloops  and  schooners  blossom 
ing  out  of  the  mists  in  the  distance.  They  stood  still  a 
moment,  looking  at  it  in  admiration  which  found  no  voice 
•  nor  words ;  and  then  Grace  led  the  way  to  the  old  tree  in 
the  centre  of  the  orchard. 

"  The  birds  have  built  their  nests  in  its  branches  more 
springs  than  my  father  can  remember,"  said  the  bright, 
sweet  voice,  sounding  doubly  so  in  the  stillness  and  moon 
light.  "  They  are  the  best  apples  in  the  orchard." 

"It's  a  fine  old  tree,  and  could  give  us  a  good  many 
histories  and  biographies  if  it  could  only  speak,"  said  the 
young  man,  standing  still  a  moment  and  surveying  the 
gnarled  old  tree,  which  bore  its  years  so  bravely,  and 
covered  its  old  brown  limbs  every  spring  with  a  white 
roof  of  blossoms.  "  I  like  old  things." 

"  So  do  I,"  responded  Grace,  with  a  bright,  pleased 
glance.  ''Somehow  I  have  an  especial  veneration  and 
affection  for  this  tree ;  and  every  spring  I  watch  with 
peculiar  interest  for  the  first  dark  ruffling  of  leaves  on 
these  brown  old  branches ;  and  they  always  seem  like  a 
new  written  poem  to  me ;  or,  at  least,  to  write  the  poetry 
to  the  old  tree  which  is  in  my  heart,  but  which  I  can't 
write." 

"  What  a  sweet,  quaint  fancy !"  thought  the  young 
man ;  but  he  did  not  speak  it,  he  only  said  :  "  Don't  you 
write  poetry,  Miss  Palmer?" 

"  I — oh,  no,"  answered  Grace,  with  a  look  of  surprise. 
"  I  never  wrote  a  line  of  poetry  in  my  life,  except" — 
correcting  herself,  for  she  was  rigidly  truthful — "when  I 
was  a  little  girl,  and  wrote  compositions  at  school." 

"  You  speak  it,  then,  without  writing  it." 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  33 

Grace  did  not  do  Edward  Dudley  exactly  justice 
when  she  thought  that  this  remark  was  merely  a  graceful 
compliment,  for  the  young  man  had  only  expressed  his 
sincere  conviction  in  his  speech.  She  bent  down  and 
searched  among  the  shadows  knotted  with  moonlight ;  but 
she  and  her  companion  did  not  find  more  than  half-a-dozen 
apples  on  the  ground,  the  red  fruit  gleaming  like  vast  car 
buncles  in  the  grass. 

"  Robert  has  had  some  school-friends  here  this  after 
noon  ;  that  explains  why  there  are  so  few  apples  on  the 
ground.  We  shall  have  to  shake  the  tree,  Mr.  Dudley." 

He  took  hold  of  the  trunk.  "  You  must  get  out  of  the 
range  of  the  apples,  Miss  Palmer." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  afraid.  I  like  to  see  them  come  tum 
bling  down,"  said  the  girl,  standing  under  the  outside 
limbs. 

The  next  moment  the  great  branches  of  the  old  tree 
shook  to  and  fro.  A  shower  of  the  ripe  fruit  flashed  like 
red  blossoms  through  the  air,  and  tumbled  heavily  on 
the  grass. 

In  the  midst  of  it  Edward  Dudley  heard  a  cry  from 
Grace,  and  she  dropped  on  her  knees,  with  her  hand  to  her 
head.  She  had  paid  a  dear  price  for  her  aesthetic  enjoy 
ment  of  the  apples ;  one  of  the  largest  had  struck  her 
on  the  side  of  her  head. 

Edward  Dudley  was  by  her  side  in  a  moment*  "  Are 
vou  hurt  ?"  he  asked,  with  much  concern. 

"Oh,  dear!  it  seems  as  though  that  apple  must  have 
oroken  my  head  open  !"  with  her  hand  pressed  hard  against 
it  to  stifle  the  pain. 

"It  is  too  bad ;  I  ought  not  to  have  allowed  you  to  stand 
there.  Can  I  do  nothing  to  relieve  you  ?" 

2* 


34:  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  Nothing,  thank  you.  It's  all  my  fault ;  the  pain  will 
be  gone  in  a  moment ;"  and  she  tried  to  smile  as  she  lifted 
up  her  face  tp  him. 

It  looked  very  sweet  and  child-like  there  in  the  moon 
light  under  the  apple-tree ;  and  the  tears  which  the  pain 
had  forced  there  shone  bright  in  the  brown  eyes  of  Grace 
Palmer. 

The  beauty  and  the  tears  stirred  the  heart  of  the  minis 
ter's  nephew,  as  it  had  never  been  stirred  before.  It  was 
very  rude  in  him,  and  I  can  only  offer  in  his  defence  a  plea 
which  by  no  means  excuses  him — that  he  did  not  exactly 
know  what  he  was  about ;  but  he  bent  down  and  kissed 
with  tender  reverence  the  rose  in  the  cheek  of  Grace 
Palmer. 

She  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant,  all  sense  of  pain  lost 
in  the  mingled  surprise,  confusion,  and  indignation  which 
took  possession  of  her.  The  latter  soon  got  the  mastery. 

"  Mr.  Dudley,"  said  the  Deacon's  daughter,  with  the 
dignity  of  an  insulted  princess,  "  how  dared  you.  do  so  ?  I 
am  not  accustomed  to  have  gentlemen  treat  me  in  that 
manner  1" 

"I'm  sorry,"  faltered  the  young  man,  fairly  aghast  at  his 
boldness ;  "  I  didn't  intend  to,  Miss  Palmer ;  but,"  and 
here  there  came  a  twinkle  in  the  dark  eyes,  "  a  girl  has  no 
business  to  look  so  pretty  that  a  fellow  can't  help  kissing 
her,  and  then  be  very  hard  on  him  for  it." 

The  indignation  in  Grace's  face  abated  slightly. 

"  I  would  not  have  believed  that  you,  a  minister's  nephew, 
would  have  done  so  rude  a  thing,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of 
solemn  admonition  which  would  have  suited  her  grand 
mother. 

"  1  didn't  know  but  ministers'  nephews  had  as  good  a 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  35 

right  to  kiss  pretty  girls  as  other  kinds  of  nephews,  if  you 
pu£  it  on  that  ground." 

Grace  caught  the  glance  of  covert  amusement  which 
accompanied  this  remark.  She  tried  to  preserve  her  dig 
nity,  but  the  dimples  about  her  lips  betrayed-  her,  and, 
quite  amazed  at  her  own  indiscretion,  she  heard  her  laugh 
thrilling  through  Edward  Dudley's,  and  filling  the  night 
with  a  peal  of  mirth. 

"  They'll  wonder  what  has  become  of  us,"  she  said, 
setting  herself  diligently  about  filling  the  basket,  in  which 
her  companion  rendered  assiduous  service,  after  stopping 
to  inquire : 

"  How  is  your  head  now  ?" 

"  Better,  thank  you;  the  pain  is  nearly  gone." 

They  returned  to  the  house  silently.  Just  when  they 
reached  the  kitchen  door,  the  young  man  turned  suddenly 
to  the  girl : 

"You  will  forgive  me?"  he  said.  "I  did  not  mean  to  be 
rude  to  you." 

"  I  ought  not  to,  Mr.  Dudley,"  said  Grace ;  and  Edward 
Dudley  seemed  not  only  satisfied  with  this  ambiguous  reply, 
but  looked  as  though  he  was  half  tempted  to  repeat  his 
offence. 

"  I  think  you  must  have  found  it  hard  work  to  shake 
that  tree,  Mr.  Dudley,"  said  the  Deacon,  with  some  soli 
citude,  when  his  daughter  and  her  guest  entered  the  parlor. 

"It's  quite  a  walk  down  to  the  orchard,  father,"  said 
Grace,  and  the  hue  of  her  cheeks  rivalled  the  red  of  the 
apples. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  New  London  before,  Mr. 
Dudley  ?"  asked  the  Deacon,  as  he  poured  a  glass  of  sweet 
cider  for  his  guest. 


36  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  Never,  sir ;  but  I  have  promised  Uncle  Jeremiah  this 
visit  ever  since  I  was  a  little  boy." 

"  Going  to  stay  a  little  while,  then  ?"  with  that  kindly 
sort  of  curiosity  which  generous  natures  are  apt  to  feel  for 
those  with  whom  they  are  brought  in  contact. 

"  My  stay  is  somewhat  indefinite.  I  am  engaged  on  a 
matter  of  some  surveying,  which  will  keep  me  in  this  part 
of  the  State  for  a  while." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Palmer, 
who  presented  a  tempting  loaf  of  "  raised  cake"  to  her 
guests,  with  many  apologies  that  it  was  not  fit  to  offer 
owing  to  her  not  having  had  "good  luck"  with  the  yeast 
that  week.  The  young  man,  however,  did  full  justice  to 
the  ample  slice  which  filled  his  plate. 

The  cider,  the  cake,  and  the  apples,  received  from  the 
guests  the  amount  of  praise  which  they  well  merited,  and 
then  the  household  knelt  down,  and  the  minister  com 
mended  its  inmates  to  the  Love  and  Care  which  kept  their 
brooding  watch  over  it  by  night  and  by  day. 

And  then  he  prayed  for  his  country — that  God  would 
work  out  for  her  a  speedy  and  sure  deliverance — that  the 
oppressor  in  high  places  should  not  prevail  against  her — 
that  He  would  rise  up  to  her  help  against  the  mighty,  and 
that  the  land  which  had  been  consecrated  as  no  other  land 
had  ever  been  to  His  service — whose  first  altars  had  been 
reared  in  His  name,  might  rise  to  glory  and  honor  amid 
the  nations — that  wisdom  might  be  given  to  her  rulers,  to 
lay  broad  the  foundations  of  her  government  in  justice 
and  righteousness — and  that  concord,  sweet  and  eternal, 
might  reign  through  all  her  Colonies — that  the  pulse  of 
each  should  beat  to  one  heart  of  common  brotherhood ; 
and  that  the  men  and  women  of  these  Colonies  should  be 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  37 

true  to  their  God  and  their  country — and  if  they  were 
called  for  her  sake  to  pass  through  fiery  trials,  that  they 
might  rise  to  sublime  heights  of  self-sacrifice  and  devotion, 
giving  up  life,  and  all  things  dearer  than  life,  for  her  honor 
— and  that  they  might  bequeathe  to  their  children  a  land 
free  and  honored — a  land  of  whom  it  should  be  said, 
"  Happy  is  that  people  whose  God  is  the  Lord !" 

And  who  shall  dare  to  question  that  prayers  like  these 
did  not  bring  their  reward — that  the  triumph  of  the  Revo 
lution  and  the  inheritance  which  our  fathers  bequeathed 
us  were  not  the  blessed  ANSWER  of  a  God  who  giveth  not 
by  measure  unto  those  who  seek  Him  ? 

The  guests  were  all  gone,  the  lights  were  extinguished 
in  the  parlor,  and  Grace  had  just  placed  the  pile  of  soiled 
dishes  on  the  kitchen  table,  when  her  brother  sidled  up  to 
her  with  a  roguish  laugh  in  his  eyes. 

"  Grace,"  he  whispered,  "  didn't  your  longest  apple- 
skin  twist  into  a  '  D'  to-night  ?" 

"  Nonsense,  Robert ;"  with  a  toss  of  the  head,  which  had 
a  restless,  wavering  habit,  like  that  of  lilies  on  slender 
stems  in  deep  currents  of  water.  "  Always  talking  about 
things  that  you  don't  understand.  Take  this  light  and 
go  straight  to  bed." 

"Yes,  my  son;  it's  very  late.  Go  to  bed — go  to  bed," 
added  his  father. 

"  Seems  to  me  this  butter  never  will  come !"  exclaimed 
Grace  Palmer,  as  she  lifted  the  churn-cover  for  the  sixth 
time,  and  saw  the  lumps  of  concreted  cream  floating  in  a 
sea  of  yellow  liquid ;  and  once  more  she  lifted  the  churn- 
handle  and  swept  the  dasher  up  and  down. 

It  was   still   early   in  the   October   morning;  her  fair 


38  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

cheeks  were  flushed  with  the  rapid  exercise,  and  the  small, 
round  arms  were  bare  above  the  elbows.  She  looked  like 
a  picture,  whose  unstudied  grace  an  artist  would  have 
rejoiced  in,  as  she  sat  on  the  low  stool  working  the  churn. 

"Why  won't  it  come,  Grace?"  asked  Benjamin,  coming 
out  of  the  corner  where  he  had  been  engrossed  in  a  picture 
of  Daniel  in  the  lion's  den  which  his  grandmother  had 
brought  him. 

"  I  don't  know,  Benny,  unless  it's  because  that  I've  set 
my  heart  on  finishing  my  new  dress  to-day.  Stand  out  of 
sister's  light,  there's  a  good  boy." 

"  I  know  what'll  make  it  come  ;  grandma  told  me.  Sing 
the  song  about  the  butter-cake!" 

Grace  smiled  indulgently  on  the  little  rogue,  who  always 
had  eyes  and  ears  for  everything  which  was  going  on,  and 
she  struck  up  a  simple  air  to  the  incantation  with  which 
our  foremothers  used  often,  when  little  girls,  to  beguile  the 
"  butter  into  coming:" 

"  Come,  butter,  come  ! 
Elijah's  at  the  gate, 
Waiting  for  the  butter  cake — 
Come,  butter,  cornel" 

Benjamin  stood  still  for  awhile,  enjoying  the  song  and 
the  motion.  At  last,  however,  he  ran  off;  and,  although 
Grace  had  no  faith  in  the  incantatory  powers  of  the  rhyme 
over  the  cream,  she  was  very  glad  to  find,  on  her  next 
inspection  of  it,  that  it  had  congealed. 

At  that  moment,  she  caught  Benjamin's  voice  exclaiming 
in  loud,  earnest  tones : 

"Come  this  way — I'll  show  you  where  she  is."  And 
looking  up,  she  saw  Mr.  Dudley  standing  in  the  low 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  39 

kitchen  doorway,  piloted  there  with  marked  satisfaction  by 
Benjamin. 

Poor  Grace  !  there  was  no  help  for  it  now.  She  thought 
of  her  homespun  dress,  her  bare  arms  and  unbraided  hair, 
and  tried  to  stammer  out  an  apology  as  she  rose  up,  with 
the  roses  glowing  wide  in  her  cheeks. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  coming  at  this  early  hour,  in 
this  informal  manner,"  said  Edward  Dudley;  "but  I  am 
going  down  the  coast  to-day  and  shall  be  back  to-morrow 
night ;  so  I  stopped  to  inquire  whether,  in  default  of  better 
company,  you  will  permit  me  to  accompany  you  to  singing- 
school  at  the  brown  schoolhouse  to-morrow  night.  I 
believe  they  propose  to  go  to  old  Mill  Tavern  after 
wards." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Dudley.  I  shall  be  happy  to  go. 
Will  you  walk  in  ?" 

Grace  managed  to  accomplish  this  speech  with  tolerable 
composure. 

"  No,  thank  you ;  I  neglected  to  secure  my  horse  at  the 
gate,  and  he  may  be  in  a  migratory  frame  of  mind.  If  I 
could  accept  your  invitation,  however,  I  should  plead  hard 
for  permission  to  relieve  you  at  that  churn;  for  I'm  a 
veteran  at  the  business,  as  I  churned  butter  for  my  mother 
when  my  head  was  no  higher  than  this  one,"  stroking 
Benjamin's  crisp  curls. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Palmer." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Dudley." 

"  Oh,  Benny,  I  never  had  such  a  mind  to  give  you  a 
good  spanking  in  all  my  life,"  exclaimed  Grace,  as  she 
turned  back  into  the  kitchen  and  looked  down  ruefully  at 
her  dress. 

"  Why,  what  has  the  child  done  now  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 


40  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

Palmer,  entering  from  the  garden,  where  she  had  just 
spread  some  peppers  to  dry. 

"Mr.  Dudley  has  just  gone  from  here,  you  see.  He 
called  to  invite  me  to  the  singing-school  to-morrow  night, 
and  don't  you  think,  Benjamin  brought  him  round  to  the 
kitchen  door,  and  displayed  me  in  this  plight!" 

"Wall,  he  asked  me  where  you  was,"  dimly  compre 
hending  his  mistake,  and  very  little  regretting  it. 

"You  knew  better,  you  naughty  boy!"  shaking  her 
hand  threateningly  at  him,  whereupon  he  disappeared  at 
the  back  door,  and  was  soon  engaged  in  chasing  the 
chickens. 

"  Never  mind,  Grace;  never  mind,"  said  her  mother,  con 
solingly  ;  "  no  young  man's  going  to  think  less  of  a  girl,  if 
he  is  a  scholar,  because  he  finds  her  up  bright  and  early  in 
*the  morning,  and  smart  at  work.  I've  heard  your  Grand 
mother  Warren  say  that  often  in  my  day." 

With  which  consoling  reflection  Grace  was  obliged  to 
betake  herself  once  more  to  her  churn. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  41 


CHAPTER  III. 

OLD  Mrs.  Palmer  had  had  a  "  touch  of  the  rheumatis" 
on  her  return  from  her  last  visit  to  her  son's ;  and  Grace 
had  gone  down  to  her  grandmother's  with  a  famous  syrup 
whose  ingredients  had  been  communicated  to  her  mother 
by  a  sick  Indian  woman  whom  she  had  received  into  her 
house  and  nursed  through  several  weeks  of  severe  illness 
during  the  first  year  of  Mrs.  Palmer's  marriage ;  and  the 
squaw  had  evinced  her  gratitude  to  her  benefactress  by 
embroidering  her  various  ornamental  cushions  and  slip 
pers  in  all  those  quaint  and  beautiful  devices  in  which  the 
aesthetic  element  discloses  itself  among  her  race ;  and  had  at 
last  inducted  her  hostess  into  the  mysteries  of  several  syrups 
and  decoctions  of  wonderful  medicinal  properties  for  which 
her  tribe  was  famous  among  the  Indians. 

And  Mrs.  Comfort  Palmer  solemnly  averred  that  the 
most  ^kilful  ointments  and  decoctions  which  civilization 
had  produced  had  not  the  power  of  eliminating  the  pain 
which  crept  with  the  autumn  chills  through  her  bones  like 
the  magical  syrup  of  the  old  Indian  woman.  Grace  walked 
rapidly  along,  a  smile  loitering  in  and  out  of  her  lips,  for 
that  night  she  was  to  attend  the  singing-school  and  make 
her  debut  at  the  old  mill  tavern  with  the  minister's  nephew 
in  her  new  dress  ;  and  she  had  an  agreeable  consciousness 
that  both  would  produce  a  strong  sensation  at  the  school- 
house  and  the  tavern. 


42  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

It  was  one  of  the  last  days  of  November.  The  earth 
had  rolled  up  and  laid  by  all  her  garments  of  praise ;  the 
trees  stood  desolate  and  bare  without  the  "joy  of  leaves," 
and  yet  the  day  was  beautiful  with  the  lost  beauty  of  the 
summer. 

Winds,  soft  as  the  May's,  loitered  among  the  barren 
branches,  and  the  sunlight  and  the  sodden  earth  lay  under 
the  warm,  sweet  sunshine;  and  the  year,  hanging  on  the 
skirts  of  winter,  had  forgotten  her  old  age,  and  had  lapsed 
into  a  dream  of  her  youth.  And  walking,  as  I  said,  rapid 
ly,  and  feeling  amid  the  flutter  of  her  pleasant  thoughts — 
for  Grace  was  dreaming  like  the  day — a  gladness  at  her 
heart  for  the  beauty  about  her,  the  young  girl  turned  sud 
denly  from  the  turnpike  into  the  pasture,  which  consider 
ably  diminished  the  distance  home.  And  treading  along 
the  short,  faded  grass,  she  suddenly  espied,  in  a  corner 
of  the  lot,  a  young  oak  around  which  a  wild  grape-vine 
had  clambered,  and  near  the  top  of  which  hung  a  dozen 
clusters  of  frost  grapes,  gleaming  in  the  sunlight  like  pur 
ple  goblets  veined  with  gold. 

"  How  beautiful  they  do  look  !"  murmured  Grace. 
"  They'll  be  the  last  I  shall  see  for  a  year.  I  wonder  if  I 
can't  get  them  now !  I  might  mount  those  bars  and  catch 
hold  of  the  lower  limb  of  that  sapling.  I'd  climbed,  before 
I  was  ten  years  old,  taller  trees  than  that,  when  the  cher 
ries  were  ripe  in  grandma's  backyard  ;  ajid  there's  nobody 
to  see  me  here." 

She  was  light  of  foot  and  agile  of  limb ;  she  mounted 
the  round  bars  easily,  and  caught  hold  of  one  of  the  upper 
branches  of  the  sapling. 

It  swayed  to  and  fro,  as  the  girl  did,  mounted  on  the 
bars,  but  she  held  her  place  and  the  twig  firmly ;  and  the 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  43 

next  moment  she  had  grasped  the  branch,  and  the  great  clus 
ters  were  almost  in  her  hands,  when  a  voice  close  at  hand 
sang  out : 

"  Wait,  Miss  Grace,  a  minute.     I'll  get  them  for  you." 

She  looked  down  in  surprise  and  confusion,  and  recog 
nised  the  speaker. 

"  If  I  had  suspected  anybody  would  see  me  I  shouldn't 
have  been  up  here ;  but  as  you've  had  a  good  view  of  me, 
it's  useless  to  excuse  myself  now." 

There  was  a  natural  grace  and  fitness  in  this  apology 
which  would  have  done  honor  to  any  high-bred  lady. 

The  young  man  whom  she  addressed  had  taste  and  sense 
enough  to  appreciate  both  the  reply  and  the  graceful  atti 
tude  of  the  girl  as  she  stood  poised  on  the  bars.  He  gave 
her  his  hands,  and  she  sprang  lightly  down  on  the  grass ; 
and  the  next  moment  he  had  resumed  her  place  on  the 
bars,  and  the  clusters  were  tumbling  at  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Jarvys.  You're  entitled  to  half 
of  them  by  right  of  conquest." 

"  But  not  by  right  of  discovery,  which  is  the  prior 
one;"  filling  her  basket  with  the  clusters.  "Do  you 
know,  Miss  Grace,  I  was  on  my  way  to  your  house  and 
have  fortunately  encountered  you?" 

With  a  woman's  acuteness  she  divined  the  young  man's 
errand.  "  I  thought  you.  were  out  of  town." 

"Yes.  I  only  returned  from  Worcester  last  evening, 
where  I'd  gone  on  some  business  for  father  which  detained 
me.  They've  got  the  war  fever  high  up  there,  Miss  Grace." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Every  son  of  America  should 
be  true  to  his  country  now,"  said  Grace,  with  energy  ;  for 
her  quick  instincts  divined  a  shade  of  disapproval  or  con 
tempt  in  this  remark. 


44  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

"  Of  course  he  should,"  answered  the  young  man  with 
an  emphasis  in  striking  contrast  with  his  last  words.  "  I 
rejoice  to  see  the  spirit  and  unity  of  the  Colonies  against 
the  usurpations  of  the  mother  country.  And  now,  if  you'll 
allow  me,  I'll  come  to  my  errand  at  once?" 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Jarvys,"  intently  occupied  at  the  mo 
ment  in  arranging  the  grapes  in  her  basket  in  artistic 
fashion. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  the  singing  to-night  and 
the  gathering  at  the  old  mill  tavern?  If  you  are  not 
engaged  already,  as  is  most  likely,  I  should  like  the  honor 
of  your  company.  I  didn't  get  back  until  to-day  or  I 
should  have  made  bold  to  ask  it  before." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Jarvys,  I  should  be  happy  to  accept 
your  invitation  if  I  had  not  another's." 

The  young  man's  brow  darkened  a  little,  and  a  shadow 
of  disappointed  or  bitter  feeling  entirely  changed  the  cha 
racter  and  expression  of  Eichard  Jarvys's  face ;  he  kept 
on  silently  by  the  side  of  Grace  through  the  short,  sodden 
grass,  and  his  brow  gradually  cleared  up  as  he  thought 
that  he  had  no  right  to  be  disappointed.  "  Of  course,  such 
a  girl  as  Grace  Palmer  would  be  engaged  for  a  frolic  by 
some  fellow  lucky  enough  to  be  on  hand  in  time." 

Naturally  kind-hearted,  and  thinking  from  her  compa 
nion's  silence  that  he  was  hurt  at  her  delicate  refusal,  Grace 
looked  up  with  some  playful  sally,  intended  to  atone  for 
any  wound  that  his  pride  had  sustained. 

The  cloud  was  gone  from  Richard  Jarvys's  face  now. 
He  answered  in  the -same  bantering  fashion,  and  they  went 
jesting  and  chatting  after  the  manner  of  young  men  and 
women  through  the  long  pasture. 

Many  persons  called  Eichard  Jarvys's  face  handsome ; 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  45 

but  they  were  usually  people  not  very  acute  in  physiog 
nomy,  or  profound  in  the  knowledge  of  human  nature. 
The  more  one  penetrated  the  young  man's  face  the  less 
he  liked  it ;  yet  all  the  features  were  good,  and  the  first 
glance  certainly  gave  an  agreeable  impression.  A  florid 
complexion,  with  sharp,  grey  eyes,  coarse,  lustrous  black 
hair,  and  a  fine  muscular  figure,  with  a  jaunty,  self-pos 
sessed  air,  struck  one  on  a  first  meeting  with  Eichard 
Jarvys.  The  mouth  looked  well  enough  in  repose,  except 
for  a  certain  weakness,  which  every  successive  glance  cor 
roborated  ;  but  it  had  suggestions  of  meanness  and  obsti 
nacy  which  had  not  yet  hardened  themselves  into  a  part 
of  its  character,  and  only  occasional  circumstances  deve 
loped  them,  but  which,  once  seen,  would  be  keys  opening 
into  hidden  corners  and  closets  of  the  man's  character  of 
which  he  had  no  suspicion. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  ship-owner,  who  resided 
about  a  mile  from  Deacon  Palmer's,  and  the  young  man 
had  hardly  a  rival  among  the  rustic  beaux  of  the  neighbor 
hood.  He  was  |hrewd,  lively,  social ;  had  seen  a  good 
deal  of  the  world,  having  taken  several  voyages  in  his 
father's  vessels ;  and  had  that  quick  observation  and  that 
faculty  of  making  the  most  of  his  information  which 
always  causes  a  man  to  be  taken  for  quite  all  that  he  is 
worth. 

The  young  people  had  reached  the  lane  which  turned 
up  to  Grace's  home.  On  one  side  of  this  was  a  field,  flank 
ed  by  a  low  stone  wall,  and  a  tall  old  butternut  tree  grew 
close  to  the  wall,  a  few  rods  from  the  pasture,  and  the 
knotty  branches  were  shaking  their  tassels  of  faded  leaves 
in  the  soft  winds,  as  though  it,  too,  was  dreaming  of  the 
lost  glory  of  May. 


46  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

The  long  walk  and  the  pleasant  talk  had  deeped  the  blos 
soms  in  the  cheek  of  Grace  Palmer,  and  the  sight  of  them 
stirred  the  soul  of  Richard  Jarvys. 

"  Where  was  the  use  of  delay  ?"  he  mused  ;  somebody 
else  might  anticipate  him  in  this  matter,  as  had  been  done 
in  the  smaller  one  ;  and  he  looked  on  the  sweet  beauty  of 
Grace  Palmer  with  a  greedy  longing  to  feel  that  it  belonged 
to  him,  and  a  selfish  fear  that  another  might  rob  him  of  it. 
Any  higher  feeling  was  not  in  the  nature  of  the  man.  No 
sense  of  self-sacrifice,  no  humiliating  consciousness  of  un- 
worthiness  of  the  great  gift  which  he  was  about  to  seek,  and 
which  would  have  impressed  a  noble  nature  at  such  a  time, 
swayed  the  heart  of  Richard  Jarvys.  Still,  there  was  a 
little  quiver  of  doubt  and  agitation  in  the  tones  which  said : 

"  Grace,  if  you  are  not  in  too  great  a  hurry,  I  wish  you 
would  sit  down  a  few  moments  on  the  wall  here ;  I  want 
to  speak  to  you." 

With  a  woman's  quick  instinct,  Grace  divined  what  was 
coming.  She  would  gladly  have  seized  any  pretext  to 
avoid  it,  but  none  offered  itself.  So  she  let  her  compa 
nion  seat  her  under  the  butternut  tree,  saying,  as  uncon 
cernedly  as  possible : 

"  I  must  be  back  before  sundown,  Mr.  Jarvys,  as  I  pro 
mised  mother  I'd  get  the  biscuit  into  the  oven  before  five 
o'clock." 

This  very  practical  rejoinder  did  not  succeed  in  dampen 
ing  the  ardor  of  the  young  man.  He  looked  in  the  girl's 
face,  he  drew  close  to  her  side,  and,  in  the  next  few 
moments,  Grace  Palmer  knew  that  the  hand  and  the  name 
which  were  considered  the  greatest  prize  in  all  her  neigh 
borhood  were  at  her  disposal.  She  was  not  a  flirt;  she 
was  a  generous,  sympathetic  woman ;  and  her  heart  flut- 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  47 

tered  with  pain  and  embarrassment,  for  Richard  had  pleaded 
his  cause  with  all  the  art  of  which  he  was  master. 

"  Mr.  Jarvys,  you  do  me  a  great  honor  ;  but — but — you 
will  forgive  me — I  cannot  accept  it." 

"  Why  not  ?"  asked  Richard  Jarvys ;  and  his  voice  was 
husky  and  greedy. 

"  Because  I  cannot  give  you  respect  and  friendship — 
that  is  all." 

"  No,  Grace,  don't  say  that ;"  and  he  clutched  her  hand. 
"  You  will  learn  to  love  me ;  for  there  is  nothing  that  I 
will  not  do  to  make  you,  and  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  what 
you  can  give  me.  Do  not  turn  away  from  me,  Grace.  You 
shall  be  loved  better  than  ever  woman  was  loved  before." 

Passion  gave  to  the  tones  of  Richard  Jarvys  an  almost 
magnetic  intensity.  A  shadow  of  doubt  and  anxiety 
passed  over  the  girl's  face.  She  looked  up  at  the  young 
man  as  though,  for  a  moment,  her  own  feelings  wavered 
with  a  doubt  whether  he  did  not  speak  the  truth,  and  she 
might  not,  after  all,  learn  to  love  him.  But  her  heart  was 
true  to  its  own  instinct.  A  shudder,  too  faint  for  Richard 
Jarvys  to  perceive,  crept  over  the  girl  with  the  thought 
of  being  his  wife. 

"  Richard,"  she  answered,  for  they  had  been  playmates 
in  their  childhood,  "  if  I  could  give  you  any  hope  I  would ; 
but,  you  know"  it  would  be  sin  for  me  to  say  what  my 
heart  does  not  endorse — what  I  feel  from  its  depths  that  it 
never  can.  I  am  grateful  to  you  for  the  honor  that  your 
offer  does  me,  and  you  will  find  some  woman  far  worthier 
of  it  than  I  am,  who  will  be  proud  of  your  love." 

And  with  these  words  Grace  rose  up,  for  it  was  time  to 
end  this  interview. 

Richard  Jarvys  dropped  her  hand  as  though  it  burnt 


48  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

/ 

him,  buried  his  face  in  his  own,  for  he  would  not  have 
Grace  see  the  "storm  which  went  over  him — a  storm  of  pas 
sion,  bitterness,  and  disappointment. 

Grace  walked  a  few  rods  down  the  lane,  and  then  she 
turned  back : 

"  Richard,  forgive  me  for  what  I  have  said,  and  let  us 
be  friends — always ;"  and  she  gave  him  her  hand.  He 
took  it  and  said  : 

"  We  will  be  friends,  Grace." 

But  his  manner  did  not  quite  satisfy  her  as  she  went  on. 
And  before  Grace  Palmer  had  reached  the  end  of  the  lane, 
Richard  Jarvys  rose  up  and  looked  after  her.  A  sullen, 
baffled,  malignant  glance  darted  after  the  girl,  which 
proved  that  the  wound  which  Richard  Jarvys's  pride  had 
received  was  one  which  would  make  him  Grace  Palmer's 
enemy  for  ever,  that  all  the  gentleness  of  her  refusal  had 
not  reached  his  better  nature,  and  that  the  memory  of  that 
afternoon  would  always  rankle  in  his  soul. 

"  I  hope  Richard  isn't  angry  with  me,"  mused  Grace  as 
her  rapid  feet  went  along  the  brown  grass.  "To  think 
I've  had  an  offer  this  afternoon — from  Richard  Jarvys,  too. 
"What  would  the  girls  say !  Well,  I'm  really  sorry,  as  I 
couldn't  accept  it." 

"  Are  you  truly  sorry  for  it,  Grace  ?"  softly  whispered 
the  girl's  conscience,  at  this  stage  of  her  cogitations. 

She  was  too  honest  to  attempt  to  evade  the  matter  with 
any  pretty  sophistries  ;  and  Grace  was  a  young  girl,  and  it 
was  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  she  should  feel  other 
wise  than  flattered  at  the  compliment  which  she  had 
received. 

"  Well,  at  all  events,  I  should  be  sorry,  if  I  thought  it 
would  give  Richard  any  long  pain  or  sorrow ;  and  he  did 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  49 

seem  very  mucli  in  earnest,"  was  the  conclusion  of  her 
cogitations  as  she  opened  the  garden  gate. 

"  Mother,  what  do  you  think  has  happened  this  after 
noon  ?"  asked  Grace,  as  she  hurried  into  the  pantry,  where 
her  mother  was  busily  engaged  in  preparing  a  pile  of 
doughnuts  for  frying. 

"I  can't  tell,  child.  You've  been  gone  long  enough. 
Grandma  had  a  fresh  attack  of  rheumatis  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  she's  pretty  smart,  considering.  Don't  you 
think,  mother,"  drawing  a  little  closer  to  her  and  lowering 
her  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper,  "  I've  had  an  offer  of 
marriage  this  afternoon !" 

"  Why,  Grace !  what  do  you  mean  ?"  holding  still  the 
long  strip  of  dough  she  was  convolving,  in  her  amazement. 
"  Who  did  it  come  from  ?" 

"  From  Eichard  Jarvys,  mother.  He  found  me  on  the 
way  home.  You  see  he  was  coming  up  here  to  invite  me 
to  the  singing-school  this  evening." 

"  Well,  I  declare,  Grace ! — what  would  your  father  say  ? 
Eichard's  a  nice,  likely  young  man,  and'll  make  his  own 
way  in  the  world." 

"I  know  it,  mother;  but  I  couldn't  have  him,  and  I 
told  him  so ;"  and  here  Grace  related  to  her  much  inte 
rested  parent  all  that  had  occured  under  the  butternut 
tree. 

Eichard  Jarvys's  brisk,  pleasant  ways  had  made  an 
agreeable  impression  on  Mrs.  Palmer ;  moreover,  his  father 
was  the  richest  man  in  the  neighborhood ;  and,  though 
Mrs.  Palmer  was  a  very  good  woman,  she  was  not  without 
a  share  of  social  ambition  for  her  daughter. 

"  We're  in  no  hurry  to  -get  rid  of  you  for  the  best  man 
m  the  world,  Grace  ;  but  there  isn't  a  girl  who'd  have  let 

3 


50  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

such  a  chance  slip  within  a  long  distance  of  here.  You 
know  that  Eichard  will  inherit  his  father's  property,  for 
he's  an  only  child  ?"  I 

"  I  know  it,  mother ;  but  you  wouldn't  have  me  accept 
a  man  for  his  money  when  I  didn't  love  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  of  course  not,  child ;"  hastening  to  reassure 
Grace  on  a  matter  in  which  principle  was  involved.  "  I'm 
sure  I  didn't  marry  your  father  from  any  such  motive,  for 
there  were  those  who  could  have  laid  down  their  hundreds 
for  every  dollar  of  Daniel  Palmer's  when  I  promised  to  be 
his  wife." 

"  Well,  mother,  I  am  your  own  daughter ;  if  ever  I 
marry  any  man  it  will  be  as  you  did  my  father — for  love 
only  ;"  slipping  off  her  straw  bonnet  as  she  spoke. 

"  That's  the  right  way  to  talk,  Grace.  I've  never  seen 
the  hour  that  I  regretted  my  choice ;"  and  Mrs.  Palmer 
returned  to  her  intricate  convolutions  of  dough,  which  she 
accomplished  with  wonderful  dexterity. 

"  But  after  all,  Grace,"  continued  Mrs.  Palmer,  in  a  tone 
of  solemn  admonition,  heaving  a  sigh,  "  it  isn't  best  for 
young  girls  to  have  their  minds  too  much  sot  on  gettin' 
married.  They  little  imagine  all  the  trials  and  troubles 
they've  got  to  go  through  with.  Men  are  very  different 
bein's  from  angels ;  and  though  they're  ready  enough  at 
making  promises,  it's  another  thing  when  it  comes  to 
keepin'  'em." 

."But  there's  father,  you  know,  mother?"  interposed 
Grace,  certain  that  no  arguments  in  favor  of  the  stronger 
sex  would  be  half  so  forcible  as  this  allusion,  which,  at 
least,  afforded  one  solitary  refutation  of  her  mother's  theory. 

"  Your  father,  Grace,  isn't  to  be  named  amongst  most 
men." 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  51 

Grace  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  her  mother's  olfacto 
ries  were  at  that  moment  assailed  by  an  odor  of  burning 
fat. 

"  I'd  forgot  all  about  that  shortenin' !"  cried  Mrs.  Palmer, 
hurrying  from  the  pantry  to  the  kettle  which  hung  over 
the  kitchen  fire,  all  her  reflections  on  the  weakness  and 
inconstancy  of  man  for  the  time  put  to  flight. 

"  Grace,  Mr.  Dudley's  down  stairs.  My  stars !  how  spruce 
you  do  look !" 

Kobert  Palmer  made  this  exclamation  as  he  thrust  his 
head  into  his  sister's  chamber,  and  she  turned  from  the 
mirror,  where  she  was  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  her 
hair,  and  confronted  her  brother.  She  seemed,  in  the  can 
dlelight,  to  be  stepping  out  of  a  bright  pink  cloud,  as  the 
folds  of  her  new  dress  fell  about  her ;  a  background  of 
warm,  vivid  colors  best  suited  the  girl's  complexion.  She 
was  dressed  very  plainly ;  a  small,  snowy  ruffle  made  a 
white  spray  about  her  neck,  and  she  had  wound  a  few 
sprays  of  wintergreen  in  her  hair,  and  the  red  berries 
flashed  like  rubies  among  the  green  leaves. 

"  "Will  I  do,  Eobert  ?"  asked  the  girl,  standing  still  a 
moment  before  her  brother,  for  Grace  had  an  unusual 
desire  to  look  well  this  evening. 

"  Do  ?"  said  the  boy,  walking  round  his  sister  and 
surveying  her  with  evident  admiration ;  "  why,  Grace,  I 
don't  believe  there'll  be  a  girl  there  that  can  hold  a  candle 
to  you." 

"  Oh,  be  still,  now.  I  wanted  to  know  if  I  did  look 
decent."  But  a  pleased  smile  on  her  lips  told  that  the 
brother's  genuine  admiration  had  had  its  effect. 

The  old  Mill  Tavern  presented  a  jubilant  spectacle,  for 


52  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

thirty-five  couples  gathered  under  its  roof  that  night,  brim 
ming  with  youth  and  high  spirits;  and  the  long  room, 
where  two  generations  had  so  often  danced  into  the  dawn, 
shook  once  more  under  quick  glancing  feet.  To  Grace 
Palmer  it  seemed  one  of  the  happiest  evenings  of  her  life — 
one  whose  pleasant  visions  shone  down  through  the  grey 
mists  of  the  years,  and  amid  whose  scenes,  and  events, 
and  feelings,  her  memory  used  to  linger  when  she  went  up 
to  the  east  windows  of  her  life  and  looked  off  to  the  land 
of  her  youth. 

How  fair  she  looked,  with  the  sparkle  in  her  eyes  and  the 
glow  on  her  cheeks !  No  wonder  rustic  hearts  throbbed 
with  envy  as  they  saw  the  Parson's  graceful  nephew,  and 
yet  they  were  all  compelled  to  bestow  a  grudging  admira 
tion  on  the  fine  appearance  he  made  when  he  danced  with 
the  Deacon's  daughter. 

Grace  was  in  constant  demand  that  night ;  and  she  was 
too  obliging  to  refuse  to  go  through  a  single  "  reel"  with 
any  of  her  rustic  admirers ;  for  they  were  all  either  the 
playmates  of  her  infancy  or  the  friends  of  her  youth. 

The  minister's  nephew  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
occasion  with  great  enjoyment,  and  won  the  smiles  and 
admiration  of  a  score  of  bright  eyes  and  rosy  lips  with 
whom  he  danced  and  joked. 

There  was  only  one  thing  which,  for  a  moment,  threw  a 
slight  shadow  over  Grace's  enjoyment  that  night,  and  that 
was  when  she  encountered  a  glance  from  Richard  Jarvys's 
eyes.  There  was  something  in  their  expression  which 
affected  her  like  a  chill ;  but  he  smiled  and  bowed  in  his 
old  cordial  fashion,  and  Grace  shook  off  the  feeling,  think 
ing  she  must  have  been  mistaken  in  his  look. 

But  Edward    Dudley,  with  his  quiet  observation,  had 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR   FATHERS.  53 

seen  what  Grace  did  not — the  start  with  which  the  young 
man  recognised  them  both ;  then  the  baleful,  sinister  glance 
which  surveyed  him  rapidly  from  head  to  foot,  and  lighted 
on  his  partner  in  a  manner  which  very  plainly  said  that  he 
had  found  the  solution  of  some  problem  in  which  she. was 
concerned. 

"  Who  is  that  man  to  whom  you  just  bowed,  Miss  Grace  ?" 
asked  Edward  Dudley,  as  soon  as  Eichard  was  engrossed 
with  his  partner  in  the  dance. 

"  Oh,  that  was  Mr.  Jarvys ;  his  father  lives  in  the  old 
stone  house,  half  a  mile  beyond  ours,  on  the  public  road. 
You  may  have  seen  it?" 

"  Yes ;  is  the  young  man  a  friend  of  yours  ?" 

The  question  was  so  abrupt,  that,  remembering  what  had 
happened  the  afternoon  before,  Grace's  cheeks  brightened 
a  little ;  and  this,  too,  did  not  escape  the  penetrating  eyes  of 
Edward  Dudley. 

"  Ob,  yes ;  I  have  known  Eichard  from  a  little  boy, 
when  he  used  to  drag  me  on  his  sled  to  school !" 

"How  curious  that  he  should  ask  me!"  thought  Grace. 
"  I  suppose  it  is  because  Eichard  Jarvys  is  decidedly  the 
most  gentleman-like  person  here." 

And  then  she  wondered  to  herself  why  she  had  not 
liked  Eichard  Jarvys  better !  He  was  so  superior  to  any 
young  men  of  the  neighborhood ;  she  had  had,  for  more 
than  a  year,  a  secret  conviction  that  he  was  fond  of  her, 
and  that  the  slight  reserve  in  her  manner  alone  prevented 
him  from  declaring  it.  And  she  could  give  no  satisfactory 
reason  why  she  had  never  been  able  to  overcome  this 
reserve  towards  Eichard  Jarvys,  and  why  she  had  always 
been  conscious  of  a  faintly  repellant  feeling  when  in  his 
society.  Her  father  and  mother  both  liked  him,  and  would, 


54  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

she  knew,  have  favored  his  suit  beyond  that  of  any  young 
man  in  the  vicinity  of  her  home. 

"It  is  strange!"  said  Grace,  standing  by  the  window, 
after  the  dance  was  over,  and  thinking  on  these  things. 

"  What  is  strange  ?"  asked  Edward  Dudley,  who  had 
been  translating  some  of  these  thoughts  from  the  fair  face, 
with  the  key  to  them  which  Richard  Jarvys's  glance  had 
given  him. 

"  Have  I  been  talking  to  myself,  Mr.  Dudley  ?  I  beg 
your  pardon !" 

Just  then  the  door  into  the  dining-hall  opened  wide,  and 
Mrs.  Trueman,  the  buxom  hostess  of  old  Mill  Tavern,  stood 
smiling  on  her  guests  from  the  head  of  the  table,  on  which 
she  had  expended  a  more  than  usual  amount  of  culinary 
skill  and  taste.  In  the  centre  of  the  table  was  a  snowy 
obelisk  of  frosted  cake,  flanked  on  either  side  with  broiled 
chickens  done  to  a  dainty  brown,  and  delicious  slices  of 
cold  tongue,  and  ham  rolled  up  into  small  brown  hillocks ; 
and  at  either  end  were  the  great  wooden  trenchers  of  apples, 
wearing  the  red,  and  russet,  and  gold  into  which  the  kisses 
of  a  whole  summer  had  warmed  them ;  and  by  their  side 
were  the  pyramids  of  nuts  and  the  great  tankards  of  golden 
cider ;  and  close  at  hand  was  what  Mrs.  Trueman  regarded 
as  the  crowning  glory  of  the  feast — the  rows  of  pies  and 
tarts  with  the  glow  of  Rhenish  wine  in  their  centre?, 
pumpkins  yellow  as  the  golden-rod  that  flamed  along  the 
turnpike  road  every  autumn,  and  mince  pies  with  crusts 
just  the  rich  shade  of  cream  in  Mrs.  Trueman's  china 
pitcher. 

The  hostess  of  old  Mill  Tavern  was  a  favorite  with  every 
body  for  miles  around.  She  was  a  small,  plump,  well- 
preserved  little  woman,  whose  life  had  slipped  off  at  least 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUK   FATHERS.  55 

forty-five  of  its  birth-days.  It  did  one  good  to  see  the 
bright,  cheery  smile  of  the  widow;  to  hear  her  brisk, 
pleasant  voice,  that  was  like  a  draught  of  cool,  fresh  wind 
clearing  up  and  vitalizing  the  air. 

Mrs.  Trueman  was  a  stirring,  shrewd,  sagacious  little 
woman,  with  a  marvellous  amount  of  ingenuity  and 
"faculty"  for  turning  her  hand  to  anything,  and  a  ready 
wit  to  meet  any  conjunction  of  circumstances.  She  was 
full  of  a  magnetic,  vitalizing  sort  of  promptness  and  force, 
which  every  one  felt  who  was  brought  in  contact  with. 
her;  and  for  nine  years  she  had  been  the  bustling,  energetic 
successor  of  her  husband,  whose  death  was  the  heaviest 
blow  that  had  ever  fallen  upon  the  warm,  quick  heart 
of  Charity,  the  widow  of  Jonathan  Triieman. 

Two  children  had  been  born  to  them ;  Lucy,  who  was 
now  nineteen,  pretty  and  plump,  with  black  eyes  full  of 
saucy  laughter,  and  lips  whose  curves  and  dimples  an 
swered  the  eyes,  and  who  was  very  much  what  her  mother 
had  been  a  score  of  years  before  her ;  and  Nathaniel,  who 
was  two  years  younger  than  his  sister,  and  took  after  his 
father,  his  mother  said — a  tall,  slender,  thoughtful  youth, 
with  a  wonderful  beauty  and  sweetness,  and  spirituality  of 
expression. 

The  thirty-five  couples  poured  out  into  the  dining- 
room,  and  for  the  hour  that  followed  there  was  nothing 
to  be  heard  but  the  hums  of  happy  voices,  the  peals  of 
merry  laughter,  and  the  sharp  clatter  of  the  dishes,  for  the 
appetites  of  Mrs.  Trueman's  guests,  whetted  by  four  hours 
of  violent  exercise,  did  full  credit  to  her  supper. 

Mrs.  Trueman  and  Mrs.  Palmer  had  been  schoolmates 
in  their  youth,  and  although  they  lived  two  miles  apart, 
a  neighborly  friendship  and  intimacy  had  always  existed 


56  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

between  them,  and  this  had  been  perpetuated  by  their 
daughters;  so,  at  the  close  of  the  supper,  little  Lucy 
Trueman,  whose  sparkling  black  eyes  had  been  brimming 
over  with  fun  and  enjoyment  all  the  evening,  made  her 
way  to  Grace,  and  putting  down  her  lips  to  her  ear,  whis 
pered  : 

"  Grace,  I  want  to  take  the  pattern  of  those  sleeves  of 
yours.  They're  just  the  prettiest  things!  Do  come  out 
into  the  kitchen.  Ma'll  want  to  see  you,  too." 

"  Mayn't  I  come,  too,  Miss  Lucy  ?"  interposed  Edward 
Dudley,  who,  standing  by  Grace's  side,  for  they  had  risen 
from  the  table  now,  caught  the  last  part  of  the  girl's 
whisper. 

Lucy  had  danced  with  the  minister's  nephew  twice  that 
evening,  and  any  slight  embarrassment  which  she  might 
first  have  experienced  in  the  gentleman's  presence,  com 
bined  with  his  antecedents,  had  now  quite  vanished. 

"  Yes ;  come  on,"  she  answered,  with  her  bright  twitter 
of  a  laugh,  which  disclosed  the  dimples  at  the  corners 
of  her  mouth.  "I'll  risk  a  scolding  from  mother  if  you'll 
promise  to  shut  your  eyes  when  you  get  there,  for  every 
thing's  at  sixes  and  sevens  now." 

"Oh,  I'll  promise  anything  so  you'll  give  me  a  free 
ticket  to  the  kitchen,"  laughed  the  gentleman,  as  he  fol 
lowed  the  bright  head. 

Mrs.  Trueman  had  just  come  into  the  room  to  give  some 
orders  respecting  the  "chiny,"  when,  looking  up,  she  en 
countered  her  guests  as  they  entered  the  kitchen,  marshalled 
by  her  daughter. 

"  Grace,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  Oh,  Lucy,  what  are  you 
up  to,  bringing  gentlemen  into  such  a  place!"  was  her 
somewhat  ambiguous  reception  of  the  minister's  nephew. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR   FATHERS.  57 

'  He  wanted  to  come,  mother,  and  I  told  him  I'd  risk  a 
scolding  from  you  ;  so  here  he  is." 

"  Yes,  and  I'm  going  to  make  myself  at  home,  too,  Mrs. 
Trueman,"  laughed  the  young  man,  as  he  took  a  seat  by 
the  girls  in  that  off-hand  fashion  which  was  the  shortest 
road  to  Mrs.  Trueman's  complaisance. 

"  There's  no  use  in  sending  you  back  now,  as  I  see," 
rejoined  the  hostess,  with  a  glance  round  the  wide  old 
kitchen,  which  was  in  a  state  of  general  "  topsy  turvy." 
"  You  must  take  us  as  you  find  us.  Grace,  you  are  looking 
very  scrumptious  this  evening." 

"Yes,  and  I'm  going  to  have  the  pattern  of  those  sleeves 
for  my  new  plaid,"  and  Lucy  bustled  up  with  a  paper  and 
a  pair  of  scissors.  "It  won't  take  you  but  a  moment,  will 
it,  Grace?" 

"  Oh  no,  Lucy,"  smoothing  the  paper  on  a  corner  of  the 
table,  while  Mrs.  Trueman  informed  her  that  she  had  just 
"  got  her  chain-pattern  quilt  on.  and  wanted  her  mother  to 
come  over  and  pass  the  afternoon  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  Grace,  I  must  show  you  my  new  present.  Uncle 
Josiah  brought  it  from  London  last  week.  You  know  that 
he's  a  sea  captain." 

"I  locked  it  up  in  the  old  sideboard  up  stairs,"  said  her 
mother,  slipping  a  small  key  from  a  dozen  which  hung 
suspended  about  her  waist  by  a  black  ribbon.  "  You're 
such  a  careless  jade,  Lucy,  I  didn't  dare  to  trust  you  with  it." 

"  Well,  grandpa  says  I'm  just  as  like  you  as  two  peas  in 

pod,"  retorted  the  merry  girl,  as  she  received  the  key 
from  her  mother's  hands  and  hurried  up  stairs. 

At  this  moment  Nathaniel  presented  himself  at  the 
kitchen  door. 

"Come  here,"  cried  his  mother,  to  the  shy  youth. 

3* 


58  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUK  FATHERS. 

"  Where  have  you  been  keeping  yourself  for  the  last  hour? 
I  noticed  that  you  slipped  away  from  the  table." 

"  Well,  mother,  the  last  stage  brought  in  the  Boston 
papers,  and  I  wanted  to  see  the  news  from  there,  now 
Governor  Gage  has  been  planting  his  field-pieces  on  Boston 
Neck,  and  sent  his  troops  up  to  the  arsenal  at  Charlestown 
in  the  night  and  got  possession  of  the  gunpowder  there." 

"Did  I  ever  see  such  a  boy!"  exclaimed  the  mother, 
lifting  up  both  hands;  but  a  glance  of  pride  and  love 
flashed  down  on  the  pale,  beautiful  face  of  the  youth,  for 
Nathaniel  was  the  idol  of  Mrs.  Trueman's  heart ;  and  this 
love  was  mingled  with  an  unutterable  yearning  and  solici 
tude  which  almost  amounted  to  pain,  for  Nathaniel  had 
been  delicate  from  his  boyhood,  and  his  mother  had  that 
tremulous  anxiety  about  him  which  intense  concentrated 
affection  is  apt  to  feel  for  its  object. 

As  Edward  Dudley  looked  on  the  pale  face,  the  high 
forehead  with  its  delicate  tracery  of  veins,  and  the  dark 
blue  eyes,  full  of  thoughtful  intelligence,  he  felt  singularly 
drawn  towards  the  youth. 

"Matters  look  dark  enough  for  the  Colonies  just  now. 
If  his  Majesty's  ministers  are  not  frightened  by  our  non 
importation  associations  into  opening  the  port  of  Boston 
once  more,  we  shall  all  have  to  shoulder  our  muskets  and 
go  to  her  help." 

"I'm  ready  to  do  it,  sir,  for  one;"  and  the  pale  cheeks 
flushed,  and  the  soft  dark  eyes  flashed  fire. 

"  No,  no !"  exclaimed  the  mother,  and  her  heart  leaped 
up  into  her  tones  and  face.  "I'll  give  up  anything  for 
my  country ;  but  I  can't  let  my  boy  go  to  the  war.  lie 
couldn't  stand  it." 

"  Yes,  I  could ;"  laughing  up  in  her  face.     "  I'd  show 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  59 

you,  mother,  that  all  your  petting  and  coddling  hadn't 
spoiled  your  boy  for  a  soldier  when  the  time  came." 

"  Wall,  it  musn't  ever  come  for  you.  Nathaniel's  sot 
his  mind  on  goin'  to  college,  Mr.  Dudley  ;"  certain  that  this 
topic  would  strike  a  chord  which  would  vibrate  quickly 
in  her  boy's  heart.  "  As  you're  just  from  New  Haven,  it's 
likely  you  can  give  him  some  information,  for  he's  bent  on 
goin'  to  Yale  ?" 

The  youth's  face  kindled  into  a  quick  glow  of  enthusiasm ; 
and  while  Grace  trimmed  the  corners  of  her  sleeve  pattern 
and  chatted  about  the  "  folks  at  home"  with  Mrs.  Trueman, 
the  young  collegian  and  Nathaniel  were  occupied  in  dis 
cussing  the  amount  of  Greek  and  Latin  necessary  to  enter 
the  Freshman  class  at  Yale,  and  Nathaniel  Trueman 
learned  with  unbounded  delight  that  three  months  more 
hard  study,  added  to  his  present  knowledge  of  the  dead 
languages,  was  sufficient  to  insure  his  admission  into  col 
lege.  The  mother  entered  into  her  boy's  pleasure. 

"I  knew  that  all  his  porin'  over  his  books  ever  since  he 
was  knee-high  to  a  grasshopper  ought  to  come  to  some- 
thin'.  As  I  told  Mr.  Nathan  Hale,  when  I  put  him  into 
the  grammar  school,  I'd  expected  to  make  a  good  tavern- 
keeper  on  him ;  but  natur'  had  cut  him  out  for  a  scholar, 
and  there's  no  use  goin'  again  her." 

Just  then  Lucy  returned,  carrying  under  one  arm  a  small 
haircloth  trunk  thickly  studded  with  brass  nails.  She 
placed  this  on  the  table,  and  unlocked  it  with  an  air  of 
mysterious  importance.  She  removed  a  stratum  of  snowy 
wool,  and  set  out  a  couple  of  richly  chased  silver  goblets, 
a  tankard,  a  cream-jug,  bowl,  and  small  coffee-pot,  all  of 
the  same,  material,  the  sides  blossoming  out  in  an  exquisite 
chasing  of  vines,  and  flowers,  and  fruits. 


60  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"Haven't  I  got  the  best  uncle  in  the  world?"  chatted 
the  girl,  as,  amid  exclamations  of  admiration,  her  guests 
took  up  the  costly  articles  and  examined  them.  "  They 
must  have  cost  at  least  five  hundred  dollars  ;  but  my  uncle 
wrote  that  he  wanted  me  to  have  something  that  I  could 
keep  for  his  sake  as  long  as  I  lived.  He  is  an  old  bache 
lor,  you  see,  and  I  was  named  for  the  lady  he  was  to  have 
married,  but  who  died  a  week  before  the  day  which  was  set 
for  the  wedding;  and  for  her  sake  Uncle  Josiah  has  gone 
mourning  all  the  days  of  his  life."  And  the  bright  face  of 
Lucy  Trueman  looked  grave  for  a  moment. 
'  "And  as  he  never  went  to  housekeeping  himself,  he 
thought  he'd  get  our  Lucy  ready  for  it  in  time,"  subjoined 
her  brother,  with  quiet  humor. 

The  pretty,  restless  head  was  bridled  and  tossed  with 
unutterable  disdain : 

"  Get  ready  for  housekeeping  ?  Catch  me !"  cried  Lucy 
Trueman.  "  I'm  going  to  keep  old  maid's  hall,  and  Uncle 
Josiah  has  just  given  me  a  setting  out.  You  must  come 
and  see  me,  Mr.  Dudley,  and  I'll  bring  oat  all  my  plate 
for  the  occasion." 

"  And  let  me  have  a  cup  of  tea,  when  the  tax  is  taken 
off?"  answered  the  young  man. 

"Certainly  you  shall.  But  see  here,  you  haven't  seen 
the  whole  yet ;"  and  she  drew  a  small  box  from  one  corner 
of  the  trunk,  and  opening  it,  disclosed  a  pair  of  ear-rings — 
two  large  carbuncles,  quaintly  set  in  gold,  and  which  caught 
the  light  and  flashed  it  back  in  restless  currents  of  flame 
from  their  burning  hearts. 

"  Oh,  Lucy,  how  beautiful  1"  exclaimed  Grace,  lost  in 
admiration.  "  It's  very  hard  to  keep  from  envying  you." 

"  It's  the  first  and  the  last  time  you'll  ever  have  a  chance 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUE  FATHERS.  61 

to  do  that,  dear  Grace,"  throwing  her  arm  with  a  quick, 
affectionate  impulse  around  her  friend ;  and  as  the  two 
girls  stood  there,  the  fine  delicate  beauty  of  Grace's  face 
and  figure  brought  into  vivid  contrast  with  the  warmth 
and  vitality  of  Lucy's,  Edward  Dudley  thought  that  it  was 
a  great  pity  that  the  picture  could  not  be  perpetuated. 

"  Why  didn't  you  wear  your  rings  to-night,  Lucy  ?" 
inquired  Grace,  still  occupied  in  admiring  scrutiny  of  the 
burning  pendants.  . 

"Oh,  didn't  I  want  to,  Grace !  But  you  see  I  promised 
Uncle  Josiah  that  I  wouldn't  put  them  on  until  my  twen 
tieth  birthday,  which  is  next  New  Year's ;  and  I  should  as 
soon  think  of  sewing  on  Saturday  night  as  breaking  my 
word  to  Uncle  Josiah." 

"  If  you  go  on  in  your  present  ways  you'll  come  to  that 
or  something  worse,  Lucy,"  interposed  her  mother,  half  in 
jest,  half  in  earnest. 

11  No  I  shan't,  mother.  I'm  going  to  settle  down  into 
a  sober-minded,  steady-going  woman,  after  I've  sown  my 
wild  oats." 

At  this  moment,  the  old  clock  in  the  kitchen  interpo 
lated  a  couple  of  sharp  strokes  betwixt  the  buzz  of  voices. 

"Dear  me ! — what  will  our  folks  say !"  exclaimed  Grace. 
And  she  only  waited  to  receive  Mrs.  Trueman's  parting 
messages  and  to  promise  Lucy  that  she  would  come  over 
and  pass  the  day  with  her  next  week,  and  then  started  for 
her  bonnet. 

"  How  I  have  enjoyed  this  frolic,"  she  said,  as  she  walked 
home  under  the  November  starlight,  with  Edward  Dudley. 
"  I  was  never  at  a  dance  before  in  my  life." 

"  Is  it  possible,  Miss  Grace  ?" 

"  Yes ;  you  know  father  is  a  Deacon,  and  feels  that  his 


62  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

family  ought  to  set  an  example  in  these  things;  not  that  he 
thinks  there  is  any  actual  harm  in  dancing,  only  life  is  too 
solemn  and  earnest  to  pass  much  of  it  in  light  enjoyment 
and  pleasure;  and  when  a  man  occupies  a  conspicuous 
religious  stand-point  he  must  sacrifice  some  amusements 
that  he  considers  harmless  for  the  sake  of  others,  who  will 
make  them  the  chief  aim  and  end  of  life." 

"  That  is  very  good  philosophy  and  religion,"  answered 
the  young  man,  smiling  down  on  the  earnest  face  uplifted 
to  his.  "Your  father  is  right  and  generous  in  his  view, 
which  is  saying  that  he  is  ahead  of  his  time ;  for  our  fore 
fathers  (praise  to  their  memory !)  certainty  brought  across 
the  ocean  something  of  the  old  asceticism  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  we  haven't  quite  got  the  chill  and  the  shadow 
out  of  our  lives  yet;  and  we  find  its  stark  and  frigid 
features  in  our  religious,  social,  and  domestic  living.  Self- 
denial,  for  self-denial's  sake,  is  something  that  a  loving  God 
never  desires  of  His  children." 

The  gaze  which  drank  in  these  words  told  the  young 
man  that  his  listener  caught  the  true  scope  and  spirit  of  hi:?, 
sentiment. 

"I  see  that  you  must  be  right,"  she  said,  "though  1 
never  thought  of  it  in  this  light  before." 

"  And  how  did  you  get  your  father's  consent  to  your 
attending  this  party?"  queried  the  young  man. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Trueman  is  an  old  friend  of  mother's,  and 
father  does  not  like  to  refuse  me  any  pleasure  that  I  have 
set  my  heart  on." 

They  had  reached  Deacon  Palmer's  front  gate  now; 
Edward  Dudley  opened  it  and  then  took  Grace's  hand. 

u  I  must  bid  you  good-by,  now,"  he  said,  "  for  a  long 
time — several  months,  at  least ;  for  I  am  going  off  on  my 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  63 

surveying  expedition,  and  it  will  be  a  long  perplexing 
business." 

He  was  watching  her  face  intently  now,  and  he  saw  the 
look  of  surprise,  and  then  the  shadow  of  disappointment 
which  fell  over  it. 

"  Good-by  ;  I  had  no  idea  you  were  going  so  suddenly, 
Mr.  Dudley,"  answered  the  sweet  voice. 

It  stirred  the  pulses  away  down  in  the  heart  of  Edward 
Dudley. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  go,  Grace,  for  one  reason  only" — and  the 
little  hand  was  tightened  in  his  grasp.  "  But,  as  1  cannot 
see  you,  I  shall  want  to  know  something  about  you  all  this 
winter.  Are  you  willing  that  I  should  write  to  you  some 
times  ? — and  if  I  do,  may  I  be  certain  that  my  letter  will 
have  a  reply  ? — or,  am  I  bold  to  ask  this  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Grace,  answering  the  last  part  of  the  ques 
tion  first,  in  the  flutter  of  conflicting  feelings.  "  But — but, 
Mr.  Dudley,  I  never  corresponded  with  a  gentleman  in  my 
life,  and  you  are  so  learned — so  far  above  me " 

His  hand,  laid  softly  on  her  shoulder,  checked  her 
here. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Grace ;  there  is  much  which  is  high 
est  and  truest  that  I  can  learn  of  you." 

She  only  shook  her  head  ;  she  had  no  words  now. 

"  Well,  if  I  write,  you  will  let  me  know  that  my  letters 
have  reached  you  ?" 

"  You  shall  know  it,  Mr.  Dudley." 

He  loosed  her  hand. 

"  Good-bye,  dear  Grace."  He  bent  down  here,  and  there 
was  a  second  edition  of  a  scene  which  had  occurred  under 
the  old  apple-tree  in  the  orchard. 

Grace  did  not  answer  this  time — "  You  are  a  minister's 


64  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHEKS. 

nephew,  Mr.  Dudley" — and  the  stars  were  too  far  off  to 
see  the  blushes  in  her  cheeks  as  she  went  up  to  the  house  ; 
but  the  key  to  the  hall  of  purple  and  gold  in  the  soul  of 
Grace  Palmer  was  turning  slowly  and  silently  in  its  lock. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  65 


CHAPTEK  IV. 

THE  winter  had  passed,  and  March,  with  the  sound  of 
a  trumpet,  had  rolled  off  from  the  face  of  the  earth  the 
white  flannels  of  February,  and  the  soft  air  of  that  day  in 
the  first  week  of  April  was  full  of  stir  and  expectation. 
The  pulses  of  the  earth  had  thrilled  once  more  to  the  call 
of  the  sunshine.  There  was  a  faint  puffing  of  light  green 
on  the  lilac  bushes,  and  a  darker  lining  of  grass  by  the 
sides  of  the  farm  fences  where  the  sunshine  fell  warmest 
at  noons ;  and  Grace  Palmer  stood  a  moment  at  the  open 
window  in  the  early  morning  and  listened  to  the  song  of 
the  first  robin  in  the  peach-tree  by  her  window,  and  her 
soul  was  glad,  looking  off  as  the  -face  of  the  year  did  to 
the  summer. 

"  Grace,"  called  her  father,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  "  I 
want  you  to  put  Robert  and  me  up  a  lunch  this  morning  ; 
we're  goin'  to  clear  up  the  land  over  at  the  Head." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  land  at  the  Head, 
father  ?"  asked  the  young  girl,  as  she  cut  great  squares  of 
gingerbread  and  sliced  the  dried  beef  for  her  father's  and 
brother's  lunch. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  turn  it  into  a  cornfield,  daughter.  God 
only  knows  how  few  of  us  '11  be  left  to  sow  our  seed,  tho', 
by  next  fall ;  for  if  times  don't  alter  some,  we'll  have  to 
turn  our  plough-shares  and  prunin'-hooks  into  swords  to 
beat  the  Philistines." 


66  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

"Father,"  exclaimed  Robert,  who  had  just  entered  the 
kitchen  and  caught  the  last  part  of  this  speech,  "I've  just 
got  the  white  horse  home,  and  while  the  blacksmith  was 
shoeing  her  Squire  Walters  came  along  and  said  that  he'd 
returned  from  Springfield,  and  he  met  old  Colonel  Putnam 
in  the  Hartford  stage  coming  back  from  Boston.  He's 
been  off  there  on  a  visit." 

"  And  what  did  the  Colonel  say,  Robert  ?"  asked  Deacon 
Palmer,  slipping  his  part  of  the  lunch  into  his  capacious 
coat-pocket. 

"  Oh,  he  says  the  boys  have  got  the  true  war  spirit  in 
them ;  that  Boston's  getting  worse  off  every  day ;  for  it's 
so  close  blockaded  that  they  can't  get  provisions  by  land, 
and  the  country  folks  won't  furnish  them  by  water.  The 
Squire  said  the  Colonel  had  got  the  old  fire  of  the  French 
war  alive  and  glowing  in  him.  He's  going  to  enlist  re 
cruits  as  fast  as  possible,  and  he  says  that  he  shall  start  fur 
Boston  with  the  first  gun  that's  fired  there." 

"  I  hope  that  God  has  raised  him  up  a  Samson  to  deliver 
us  from  the  hand  of  the  enemy,"  solemnly  subjoined  the 
Deacon. 

"I  hope  so.  Here's  your  lunch,  Robert.  Don't  forget 
to  stop  at  the  office  after  the  stage  gets  in ;  there's  a  good 
boy." 

This  was  added  in  an  under  tone,  and  with  a  little  self- 
consciousness. 

"Is  it  time  for  him  to  write  again?"  asked  the  youth, 
with  a  flash  of  fun  lurking  in  his  brown  eyes. 

"  Don't  ask  any  saucy  questions ;  only  do  what  I  say, 
and  you  shall  have  a  nice  mince  turn-over  for  supper 
to-night." 

"I'll  do  it,  Grace.     You've  bought  me  over  now." 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  67 

"Come,  come,  Robert;  be  spry,  boy,"  called  the  voice 
of  the  Deacon,  and  the  boy  followed  his  father  out  of  the 
house. 

Grace  watched  her  father  and  brother  with  an  absorbed 
expression  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  she  went  up  stairs 
to  her  studies — for  Grace  Palmer  had  devoted  all  her  spare 
moments  during  the  winter  to  her  books.  A  quiet  change 
had  been  passing  over  the  girl — one  which  was  more  easily 
felt  than  described.  She  was  more  self-sustained,  thought 
ful  ;  there  was  a  new  softness  and  graciousness  of  move 
ment,  and  speech,  and  manner,  which  would  have  made  the 
Deacon's  little  daughter  accepted  in  any  social  position  to 
which  circumstances  might  elevate  her. 

But  these  things  were  only  the  outward  manifestation  of 
inward  growth  and  development;  for  Grace  Palmer's  being 
had  been  silently  expanding  and  intensifying  through  all 
these  months.  The  long  letters  which  the  weekly  mail 
brought  to  her  from  the  western  part  of  the  State  had  been 
full  of  stimulation  and  suggestion  to  the  quick,  responsive 
soul  of  Grace  Palmer.  She  had  pursued  with  eager  avi 
dity  the  studies  those  letters  recommended  ;  she  had  drunk 
and  refreshed  her  soul  at  the  great  fountains  which  the 
authors  of  the  Elizabethan  era  opened  for  succeeding  gene 
rations  ;  she  had  fed  her  thoughts  with  Shakspeare  and 
Bacon,  with  Dante  and  Tasso,  and  enriched  her  mind 
\vith  the  great  authors  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries — Locke  and  Boyle,  and  Addison  and  Swift.  And 
these  letters  in  that  broad,  bold,  running  hand  which  Grace 
had  learned  so  well,  opening  new  avenues  of  thought  and 
clearer  and  truer  estimates  of  life  and  men  and  things, 
became  in  a  little  while  her  one  great  interest,  around 
which  all  minor  ones  revolved.  Not  that  they  were  pedan- 


68  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

tic  or  homiletic  letters.  They  were  full  of  vivid  pictures 
dashed  off  with  rapid  strokes  of  the  writer's  pen ;  they 
were  vital  with  youth,  and  health,  and  a  keen  relish  of 
humor — though  this  latter  always  flashed  and  played  over 
a  deep,  strong  background  of  grave  and  earnest  thought 
and  purpose ;  for  Edward  Dudley,  while  in  college,  and 
after  two  or  three  years  of  skeptical  doubt,  and  struggle, 
and  indecision,  had  at  last  settled  the  great  aim  of  his  life, 
and  bowed  his  heart  in  deep  and  loving  consecration  to  the 
Master  whose  Name  he  saw  now  was  the  one  Hope  and 
Help  of  a  world  lost  in  darkness  and  sin. 

Edward  Dudley  was  a  resolute,  self-sustained  character, 
full  of  deep  though  not  demonstrative  enthusiasm ;  and 
with  him  there  was  no  indecision  or  fluctuation  after  his 
heart  was  once  settled  in  its  Christian  faith  and  hope.  Of 
course  he  had  all  those  high  tides  and  ebbs  of  emotion  which 
every  consecrated  heart  undergoes  amid  the  pressure  and  fric 
tion  of  life ;  but  his  faith  and  trust  in  the  Love  and  Wisdom 
of  the  Father  who  had  given  his  dearly  beloved  Son,  that 
the  world  through  Him  might  be  saved,  never  wavered 
or  grew  dim ;  for  religion  with  him  was  not  an  emotion 
but  a  principle.  And  this  religion,  of  course,  modified 
and  softened  the  man.  The  great  and  solemn  realities  of 
human  guilt  and  responsibility,  of  suffering,  and  of  death 
and  eternity,  gave  a  certain  undercurrent  of  thoughtfulness 
and  gravity  to  his  gayest  moments,  though  he  was  by  na 
ture  and  cultivation  the  very  antithesis  of  an  ascetic. 

He  was  liberal  and  broad-minded  beyond  his  time,  and, 
respecting  every  man's  individuality,  desired  for  himself 
and  others  a  liberty  of  thought  and  action  which  would  be 
likely  to  come  into  strong  antagonism  with  those  rigid 
features  of  Puritan  religion  and  life  which,  as  we  gaze  off 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  69 

on  them  from  a  different  era  and  through  the  long  per 
spective  of  years,  obscures  for  us  much  of  their  warmth, 
and  truth,  and  beauty. 

And  such  was  Edward  Dudley,  the  man  into  the  fair 
and  stately  chambers  of  whose  heart  the  sweet  face  of  the 
Deacon's  daughter  had  shined  oftener  than  ever  woman's 
did  before,  though  he  was  accustomed  to  the  society  of  the 
most  accomplished  and  high-bred  women  of  his  age. 

And  that  morning,  while  Grace  Palmer  sat  in  the  sweet 
April  sunshine  absorbed  in  her  studies,  a  scene  was  occur 
ring  less  than  a  mile  from  her  home  which  was  to  throw 
a  sudden  darkness  over  it,  and  overshadow  several  of  the 
brightest  years  of  her  youth. 

"  Eichard,"  said  Mr.  Jarvys  the  elder,  looking  up  from 
some  old  documents  which  he  had  been  intently  investigat 
ing  for  the  last  hour,  "  your  bones  are  spryer  than  mine ; 
I  wish  you'd  go  up  stairs  and  find  that  old  deed  of  the 
South  Meadow  and  land  adjoining  which  belonged  to  your 
great-uncle  Joseph,  and  which  he  left  to  me ;  I  haven't  seen 
it  for  years.  Open  the  big  drawer  of  the  secretary  in  my 
room,  and  there  are  several  small  ones  on  the  right  hand ; 
you'll  find  the  deed  in  one  of  those." 

I'll  go  for  it,  father,  if  you'll  put  it  in  your  will  for 
me,"  laughed  the  young  man,  as  he  laid  down  his  paper. 

"  Ah,  Dick,  you're  a  lucky  dog !"  added  the  elder  man,  as 
his  son  went  towards  the  door.  "  An  only  son,  with  a  father 
that's  scraped  and  toiled  all  his  life  to  leave  you  a  fortin' 
made  to  hand."  And  the  old  man  settled  the  bows  of  his 
silver  spectacles  on  his  wide  nose  and  resumed  his  scrutiny 
of  the  documents. 

A  flash  of  exultation  went  over  the  young  man's  face  as 


70  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

he  heard  these  words.  Then  he  remembered  that  all  this 
wealth  could  not  purchase  the  heart  and  hand  of  the  one 
woman  that  he  courted,  and  the  exultation  vanished  into 
one  of  sullen  bitterness. 

Mr.  Jarvys,  the  elder,  had  a  shrewd,  keen  pair  of  eyes, 
under  shaggy  grey  eyebrows ;  and  these  keen,  sharp  eyes 
were  endorsed  by  the  character  and  expression  of  his  whole 
face.  His  thin  locks  of  iron-grey  hair  curled  tightly  about 
his  head,  and  his  forehead  wore  the  deep  wrinkles  of  four 
score  years.  Mr.  Ealph  Jarvys  had  the  reputation  of  being 
a  peculiarly  sharp  business  man,  one  who  could  not  be 
over-reached  in  a  bargain ;  and  an  acute  observer  would 
have  penetrated  the  man's  true  quality  at  once  ;  the  grand 
aim  of  his  whole  life  was  to  make  money  and  to  increase 
what  he  had ;  and  he  valued  himself  solely  not  for  what 
he  was,  but  for  what  he  had  got. 

Still,  Ealph  Jarvys  did  not  present  the  most  repellant 
features  of  a  miser  to  those  with  whom  he  was  brought  in 
daily  contact.  He  was  liberal  enough  in  his  own  house 
hold,  and,  indeed,  took  no  small  degree  of  pride  in  its 
appointments  and  his  general  style  of  living,  feeling  that 
these  illustrated  his  wealth  and  importance. 

He  was  fond  of  a  rough  joke,  too,  and  not  utterly 
indifferent  in  his  love  of  gain  to  the  opinions  of  his  fellow- 
men  ;  but,  for  all  this,  he  was  a  hard,  grasping,  selfish  man ; 
one  wno,  though  he  never  transgressed  the  laws,  pressed 
them  to  their  utmost  limits  in  his  own  favor,  and  exacted 
the  last  dollar  from  those  who  were  in  his  power. 

Richard  was  absent  so  long  that  his  father  glanced  up 
impatiently  several  times  towards  the  door  before  his  son 
presented  himself.  When  he  did,  it  was  with  a  look  full  of 
eagerness  and  wonder. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  71 

"  Father,"  he  commenced,  "  I've  come  across  something 
up  stairs  whose  existence  I  fancy  that  you  didn't  suspect. 
It's  an  old  title-deed  of  my  great-grandfather's." 

"  Where  did  you  find  it,  Dick  ?"  said  the  old  man,  peer 
ing  at  the  yellow  sheet  of  paper  which  his  son  held  before 
him. 

"  Why,  you  see,  I  searched  among  all  the  small  drawers 
for  that  old  deed  of  my  great- uncle's.  I  found  it  in  the  top 
one  at  last,  and  as  I  drew  it  out,  I  struck  the  knob  of 
another  small  drawer  just  at  the  side  of  this.  I  opened  it 
out  of  curiosity,  and  drew  forth  this  musty  old  paper.  You 
can  tell  better  than  I  whether  it's  good  for  a  sixpence." 

Ralph  Jarvys  seized  the  paper  as  his  son  laid  it  on  the 
table.  He  read  it  over  three  times  carefully  without 
speaking.  Then  he  looked  up  to  his  son  and  brought  down 
his  clenched  hand  on  the  table.  His  hardest,  greediest 
look  was  on  his  face  now — a  look  which  made  it  repellant. 

"Dick,"  he  said,  "you've  put  a  new  fortin'  into  my 
hands  this  mornin'  ?" 

"  Is  that  so  ?"  asked  Dick,  with  an  eagerness  which 
duplicated  his  father's.  "Don't  you  think  they  can  pro 
duce  a  bill  of  sale  ?" 

"  There's  the  rub.  If  old  Mrs.  Comfort  Palmer  hasn't 
got  any  proofs  in  her  possession  that  the  land  was  sold  to 
her  husband's  father,  every  rod  of  the  Deacon's  farm  is  my 
own ;  here  it  is,  in  black  and  white,"  and  he  slapped  the 
yello.w  document  defiantly. 

A  flash  of  malicious  triumph  went  over  Dick's  face. 

"I  always  knew,"  pursued  Ralph  Jarvys,  taking  off  his 
spectacles  and  wiping  his  eyes,  ''that  there  was  a  hitch 
somewhere  in  the  sale  of  that  ere  land,  for  it  was  never 
recorded,  and  it  belonged  to  my  grandfather.  He  and 


72  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

the  Deacon's  grandfather  died  about  the  same  time,  and 
the  farm  went  into  the  Palmer  family." 

"But  how  did  the  land  fall  into  the  Palmers'  hands, 
anyhow?"  asked  Dick,  who  was  shrewd  enough  to  per 
ceive  that  his  father's  indefinite  statement  must  have  left 
out  some  very  important  facts. 

"There  was  always  a  mystery  hanging  about  that," 
hitching  his  chair  round  a  little  uneasily.  "I  remember 
hearing  my  father  say,  that  in  the  last  talk  which  his  father 
had  with  him  afore  he  died,  he  told  him  that  his  land 
adjoining  South  Farm  was  all  fair  and  square  made  over 
to  old  David  Palmer.  That  must  have  been  nigh  upon 
sixty -five  years  ago." 

"  But  I'm  sure  I've  heard  you  say  that  this  David  Palmer 
rendered  your  grandfather  a  great  service — saved  his  life 
somehow  ?" 

"  Wall,  he  did ;  though  that's  nothin'  to  do  with  the 
case  in  hand,  as  I  see.  The  old  gentleman  was  comin' 
home  one  night  and  crossin'  the  river  with  his  ox  team, 
when  the  ice  broke  and  he  fell  in,  and  would  have  drowned 
if  old  David  Palmer  hadn't  heard  his  shrieks  from  the 
shore,  and  made  his  way  over  the  ice  to  him  and  dragged 
him  out." 

"  And  perilled  his  own  life  to  do  it,  I  'spose  ?"  still 
further  interrogated  Richard,  who  was  determined  to  pene 
trate  the  facts  of  the  case. 

"Likely  enough — likely  enough,"  answered  the  old  man 
concisely,  as  though  it  was  not  a  very  agreeable  admission. 

"  Well,  did  your  father  believe  that  his  father  had  sold 
the  land  fair  and  square  to  this  old  David  Palmer  ?"  pur 
sued  Dick,  in  a  species  of  cross-questioning  which  was 
becoming  more  and  more  annoying  to  his  father. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  73 

"Wall,  what  if  he  did,  boy — what  if  he  did!  Law  has 
nothing  to  do  with  'supposings'  and  'naaybes,'  and  a  man 
must  look  out  for  the  side  his  own  bread  is  buttered  on. 
I've  only,  like  the  law,  to  deal  with  the  hard  facts  in  the 
case ;  and  if  this  'ere  document  says  that  ere  land  is  mine 
— I'll  have  it,  that's  all,  spite  of  any  man,"  and  he  con 
cluded  this  speech,  as  one  who  expressed  its  sentiment 
would  be  likely  to — with  an  oath. 

Richard  Jarvys  had  no  solid  principles  of  life  or  conduct ; 
and,  like  the  mass  of  men  of  this  kind,  he  could  easily  be 
persuaded  by  the  boldest  sophistry  into  a  mean,  craven, 
base  action.  But  he  was  in  his  youth  still ;  and  his  instincts 
for  truth,  and  right,  and  honor,  had  not  been  wholly  indu 
rated  by  a  long  life  of  greed  and  selfishness. 

His  better  impulses  could  for  the  moment  be  stimulated 
into  admiration  of  a  generous  or  noble  act;  and  at  first 
they  revolted  at  the  dishonor  and  dishonesty  which  his 
father's  course  of  procedure  would  involve  in  the  matter 
under  discussion  ;  for  the  young  man  entertained  no  doubt 
in  his  own  mind  that  the  land  whose  title-deed  his  father 
held  justly  belonged  to  David  Palmer  and  his  heirs,  how 
ever  the  proofs  of  possession  might  be  wanting  on  their 
part ;  and  his  answer  was  in  accordance  with  this  belief. 

"  But  you  see,  father,  if  your  grandfather  actually  stated 
on  his  death-bed  that  the  land  belonged  to  the  Palmers, 
and  this  David  saved  him  from  drowning  at  the  peril 
of  his  own  life,  it  wouldn't  look  quite  like  the  right  thing 
to  make  them  any  trouble  at  this  late  time." 

"  You  talk  like  a  very  young  man,  Dick,"  answered  his 
father,  with  a  great  deal  of  condescension  in  his  manner. 
"  When  you've  lived  to  be  as  old  as  I  am,  you'll  be  a  little 
wiser,  and  you'll  have  more  faith  in  a  little  money  than 


74  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

anything  else  in  the  world.  Every  man  must  look  out  for 
himself  or  he'll  soon  be  kicked  under;  and  I've  studied 
human  natur'  a  good  deal  in  the  course  of  my  experience, 
and  I've  found  that  I'm  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  men  in 
this  thing,  though  there's  plenty  that  make  great  profes 
sions  ;  but  come  to  sound  'em,  they're  all  alike — selfish  at 
the  bottom !" 

Richard  Jarvys  had  no  deep  moral  consciousness  to  rise 
up  and  refute  this  sweeping  condemnation  of  humanity ;  so 
lie  put  in  a  lame,  wavering  sort  of  objection,  which  was 
virtually  coming  over  to  his  father's  position. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  but  you're  more  than  half  right  in 
all  you've  said ;  but  it  has  a  sort  of  hard,  mean  look,  to 
make  the  Palmers  trouble  under  the  circumstances." 

"We  mustn't  be  too  squeamish  about  'looks'  in  this 
world,  Richard,  if  we  expect  to  make  our  way  in  it.  As 
for  the  '  trouble,'  that's  something  we  can't  help.  Folks 
never'd  get  their  rights  if  they  al'ays  stopped  for  the 
'trouble'  it  was  goin'  to  bring  on  others." 

"  How  soon  shall  you  make  this  matter  known  to  the 
Palmers?"  pursued  Richard,  for  he  evidently  felt  a  keen 
interest  in  the  subject,  though  his  parent  had  no  suspicion 
of  the  cause. 

"This  very  morning,  Dick,  I  shall  go  and  have  a  talk 
with  Deacon  Palmer  afore  noon.  It'll  take  him  mightily 
by  surprise." 

"  Yes,  it'll  take  down  the  pride  of  the  whole  family  a 
peg,"  and  the  younger  Jarvys  rubbed  his  hands  as  he  pic 
tured  to  himself  the  distress  and  consternation  of  the  young 
girl  who  had  so  lately  refused  his  hand,  and  there  was  an 
expression  on  his  face  which  one  finds  on  a  man's  when  he 
is  rejoicing  in  something  he  feels  is  mean  and  contemptible. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  75 

*  •*  *  *  *  * 

"Why,  father,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"  Don't  be  scared,  child ;  I've  had  a  poor  turn  to-day !" 

Grace  Palmer  was  "clapping"  an  embroidered  collar 
which  she  had  just  immersed  in  a  bowl  of  fine  starch  on 
the  table.  She  dropped  the  collar  and  ran  towards  her 
father,  for  she  saw  at  once  something  had  happened  to  him, 
and  the  rose-buds  were  quite  frightened  out  of  her  cheeks 
as  she  assisted  him  to  his  arm-chair  by  the  fireside,  and  the 
old  man  leaned  his  stalwart  frame  on  the  young  girl  as  he 
moved  slowly  and  feebly  across  the  kitchen. 

"  Dear  father — do  tell  me  how  it  happened !  Is  it  any 
thing  serious?  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"Don't  be  frightened,  daughter.  Eun  down  and  draw 
me  a  glass  of  cider ;  that'll  kind  of  set  me  up,  like." 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  with  her  husband  when  Grace  returned 
with  the  cider,  for  she  had  met  her  mother  on  the  way  to 
the  cellar  and  paused  to  say,  "  Father's  got  back.  He's 
had  a  dreadful  poor  turn  to-day,"  and  this  laconic  informa 
tion  had  sent  Mrs.  Palmer  to  the  kitchen  in  a  tumult  of 
apprehension. 

"How  did  it  come  on,  father?  I  never  knew  you  to 
have  such  an  attack  since  you  was  a  young  man  and  had 
the  sun-stroke  that  hot  day  you  was  rakin'  hay  in  the  east 
meadow." 

"  This  wasn't  like  that  ere,  Patience.  It  didn't  come  on  of 
a  sudden,"  and  he  took  the  glass  of  cider,  and  the  great  brown 
hand  shook  like  a  little  "child's  as  he  carried  it  to  his  lips. 

"  You  must  have  a  mug  of  hot  pepper-tea,  and  a  mus 
tard  paste  on  your  back.  They're  the  best  things  for  a 
chill  or  a  faint  turn,"  subjoined  Mrs.  Palmer,  for  her  sym 
pathies  always  took  a  practical  form. 


76  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

"  Never  mind  that  now,  Patience.  I  shall  get  over  it  in 
a  minute,"  and  the  Deacon  put  his  hand  to  his  head  as 
though  there  was  some  pain  or  trouble  there. 

Mi's.  Palmer's  womanly  intuitions  could  not  be  at  fault 
long.  She  bent  a  searching  gaze  on  the  white  face  of  her 
husband,  and  then  exclaimed  : 

"  Daniel,  you've  heard  some  bad  news  !" 

"  Don't  speak  on  it  now,  mother,"  and  he  moved 
uneasily,  and  there  was  a  groan  which  he  tried  to  suppress 
in  his  voice. 

Mrs.  Palmer's  suspicions  were  confirmed.  The  tremu 
lous,  shrinking  heart  of  the  little  woman  rose  at  once  strong 
and  brave  to  share  whatsoever  evil  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of 
her  husband. 

"  Tell  me  what  has  come  upon  you,  father  ?"  she  said, 
and  her  voice  was  one  that  would  not  easily  be  put  off. 

"  I  can't  speak  of  it,  wife — I  can't ;"  and  now  there  was 
sharp  agony  in  the  tones  of  Deacon  Palmer,  and  he  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands  before  his  wife  and  daughter. 

Mrs.  Palmer  took  hold  of  her  husband's  arm,  and  the 
woman's  heart  fired  her  lips  with  unwonted  eloquence, 
and  she  kept  her  voice  brave  and  steady  through  the 
tumult  of  feeling  which  overswept  her  soul. 

"  Daniel,"  said  the  little  woman,  "  I  was  a  young  inex 
perienced  thing,  with  only  eighteen  years  over  my  head, 
when  you  brought  me  under  this  roof  for  the  first  time, 
your  lovin'  wife,  to  share  your  heart  and  home.  We've 
walked  close  together,  Daniel,  through  the  dark  days  and 
the  bright  ones  for  more  than  a  score  of  years.  "We've 
borne  together  our  great  heartaches,  when  we  laid  down 
five  of  our  children  in  the  graveyard  yonder,  and  thanked 
the  Lord  that  if  they  was  few  on  earth  they  was  more  in 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR   FATHERS.  77 

Leaven !  And  in  all  this  time  we've  never  had  more  than 
a  moment's  hard  feelin'  towards  each  other,  or  a  trouble  that 
both  didn't  share.  And  now,  Daniel  Palmer,  haven't  I 
been  all  this  twenty  years,  and  more  too,  a  true  and  faith 
ful  wife  to  you? — too  good  a  mother  to  your  children  for 
you  to  hold  back  from  lettin'  me  bear  my  share  of  the 
trouble  that's  fallen  upon  you !" 

Deacon  Palmer  was  greatly  moved  ;  he  looked  up  into 
the  faded  face  of  the  brave  little  woman  by  his  side,  and,  as 
the  remembrance  of  all  her  thoughtful  love  and  self-sacri 
fice  swept  over  him,  he  felt  that  he  still  owned  something 
which  no  lands  or  gold  could  buy  in  that  one  true  heart. 
He  put  his  arm  around  his  wife. 

"Patience,"  he  said,  "you've  been  the  best  and  truest 
wife  that  ever  God  gave  to  a  man.  I  wanted  for  your  sake 
and  the  children's  to  bear  the  burden  alone  as  long  as  I 
could  ;  but  the  time  must  come  for  you  to  know,  sooner  or 
later,  and  maybe  it's  as  well  now  as  ever." 

"  Oh,  father,  let  us  know !"  It  was  Grace's  voice  that 
pleaded  now.  And  the  Deacon  yielded,  and  his  family 
soon  knew  the  whole  truth. 

It  appeared  that  Ealph  Jarvys  had  gone  out  to  the  Head, 
had  an  interview  with  the  Deacon  that  morning,  showed 
his  title-deed  to  the  land  on  which  the  Palmer  homestead 
stood,  and  the  fields  and  orchards  adjoining  it,  and  signified 
his  intention  of  taking  possession  of  the  whole  as  soon  as 
the  law  permitted.  The  Deacon  was  thoroughly  appalled. 
As  soon  as  he  comprehended  the  matter,  he  asserted  his 
legal  ownership  of  the  Palmer  lands,  and  their  lawful  pur 
chase  sixty  years  before  by  his  grandfather,  David  Palmer. 

Eichard  Jarvys  felt  in  his  heart  that  he  was  committing 
a  dishonest  deed,  and  the  only  way  was  to  carry  it  through 


78  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

with  a  high  hand  ;  he  grew  angry  and  insolent,  defied  the 
Deacon  to  produce  any  proofs  of  the  sale  of  the  Calmer  farm 
by  his  grandfather ;  affirmed  that  the  purchase  had  never 
been  recorded,  and  was  never  made  in  good  faith  ;  and  that 
he  was  the  rightful  owner  of  the  lands,  had  the  proofs  in 
his  possession,  and  the  law  would  be  obliged  to  give  them 
to  him ;  and  left  in  a  great  heat,  after  some  insulting  threats. 

Deacon  Palmer,  moreover,  averred  that  several  weeks 
before  he  had  had  a  singular  dream,  which  had  made  a 
deep  impression  on  his  mind ;  he  seemed  to  be  standing 
one  evening  in  the  front  door  of  his  dwelling,  and  looking 
off  on  his  goodly  acres,  as  they  waved  golden  and  white  for 
the  harvest,  when  his  father  suddenly  appeared  by  his  side. 

"  It  is  a  fine  old  place,"  he  said,  "  and  you've  taken  good 
care  of  it,  Daniel ;  but  look  out  that  your  title's  secure,  for 
it's  all  yours,  as  it  was  your  father's  and  grandfather's 
before  you." 

This  dream  had  recurred  to  the  Deacon  several  times 
with  such  force  that,  on  his  last  visit  to  his  mother,  he  had 
had  a  long  talk  with  her  respecting  the  sale  of  the  Palmer 
farm. 

She  recalled  all  the  circumstances  vividly,  having  been 
married  about  two  years  when  the  sale  occurred.  It  took 
place  one  evening,  in  her  own  house,  some  two  weeks  sub 
sequent  to  the  time  when  her  husband's  father  had  rescued 
Samuel  Jarvys  from  drowning,  for  he  must  certainly  have 
perished  had  he  remained  three  minutes  longer  under  the 
ice ;  and  the  cold  which  David  Palmer  took  at  this  time 
cost  him  his  life  two  months  later.  Mrs.  Palmer  recalled 
the  conversation  which  passed  between  the  two  men  before 
the  sale  was  consummated,  though  this  had  previously  been 
contemplated  by  the  two  parties. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  79 

"  There  is  no  time  like  the  present,"  said  Samuel  Jarvys, 
"  as  you  and  I  knew  two  weeks  ago  this  very  night ;  and  as 
you've  saved  my  life,  friend  Palmer,  you  shall  have  the  two 
hundred  acres  lying  between  Mullen  Hill  and  Eoaring 
Brook  for  three  hundred  dollars,  and  it  '11  stand  for  a 
remembrance  of  what  you  did  for  me  to  our  children  after 
us." 

David  Palmer  had  objected  to  the  price  of  the  land,  say 
ing  it  would  bring  double  that  sum  ;  though  Mrs.  Palmer 
could  remember  it  was  at  that  time  a  tract  of  uncleared 
land. 

Mr.  Jarvys  had  checked  her  father-in-law.  "  Don't 
offer  another  word  there,  neighbor  Palmer.  If  I  was  a 
rich  man  you  should  have  every  rood  of  it  in  remem 
brance  of  the  great  debt  that  I  owe  you.  But  I  can  save 
myself  for  three  hundred,  and  for  that  sum  you  shall  have 
it." 

"  It's  a  bargain,  neighbor,"  said  David  Palmer. 

Mr.  Jarvys  seemed  for  some  reason  anxious  to  conclude 
the  matter  that  night,  and  after  the  bill  of  sale  was  drawn 
up,  Mrs.  Comfort  Palmer  had  summoned  from  the  kitchen 
a  couple  of  neighbors  who  put  their  names  as  witnesses  to 
the  paper.  She  had  herself  been  called  from  the  house  at 
this  time  by  the  illness  of  a  neighbor,  and  when  she 
returned,  a  couple  of  hours  later,  Mr.  Jarvys  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving. 

"  Well,  neighbor,"  he  said,  shaking  the  hand  of  his 
friend,  "  the  land  is  yours  and  your  heirs  for  ever  now,  and 
to-morrow  I  will  call  for  you,  and  we'll  go  up  to  the  centre 
and  have  it  recorded." 

Mr.  Jarvys  showed  the  bill  of  sale  to  his  daughter-in-law 
after  he  returned  from  the  hall,  whither  he  had  gone  with 


80  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUH  FATHERS. 

his  guest,  and  said  he  should  proceed  at  once  to  clear  the 
land,  and  lay  it  out  in  pastures  and  wheat-fields  ;  and  if  his 
life  was  spared,  he  might  build  a  house,  selecting  for  its 
site  the  very  ground  on  which  the  homestead  now  stood. 

That  night,  however,  David  Jarvys  went  to  the  bed  from 
which  he  never  again  rose,  and  the  bill  of  sale  was  not 
recorded.  His  entire  property  fell  to  his  son,  the  father  of 
Daniel,  for  the  old  man  died  without  making  a  will. 

Mrs.  Palmer  recollected  having  seen  the  bill  of  sale  in 
her  husband's  possession  twenty  years  later,  only  a  few 
weeks  previous  to  his  death,  and  promised  the  Deacon  that 
she  would  at  once  institute  a  search  for  it. 

As  soon  as  Richard  Jarvys  had  left,  the  Deacon  had 
started  for  his  mother's,  foreseeing  that  if  the  bill  of  sale 
could  not  be  produced,  it  was  in  the  power  of  Eichard 
Jarvys  to  occasion  him  great  trouble,  and  perhaps  eject  him 
from  the  old  homestead  and  the  soil  on  which  he  had 
expended  the  strength  and  toil  of  his  life. 

The  Deacon's  heart  failed  him  when  he  learned  from  his 
mother  that  a  most  thorough  search  had  failed  to  produce  the 
bill  of  sale,  and  he  had  started  off  in  a  terrible  tumult  of  feel 
ing,  when  he  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  strange  dizziness 
and  chilliness,  and  could  only  with  difficulty  stagger  home. 

"  If  it  had  come  years  ago,  when  I  was  fresh  and  strong," 
said  the  old  man,  "  I  could  have  made  headway  against  it; 
but  it's  fallen  heavily  on  my  old  age.  I  can't  stand  the 
thought  of  leaving  the  old  home  where  I  was  born  and 
brought  up,  and  which  has  grown  to  be  a  part  of  my  life ;" 
and  he  glanced  around  the  old  kitchen  with  a  kind  of  sor 
rowful  tenderness  which  it  was  pitiful  to  see. 

"  Oh,  father  !"  interposed  Grace,  who  had  eagerly  drunk 
in  every  word  of  her  father's  story — "  you  won't  have  to 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  81 

leave  the  old  homestead ;  Ralph  Jarvys  can't  get  it  away 
from  you." 

"  I  don't  know,  my  child.  He  is  an  unprincipled,  selfish 
man,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  will  push  matters  to  the 
utmost  extremity  of  the  law." 

"  And  all  of  this  trouble  might  have  been  saved  if  the 
bill  of  sale  had  been  recorded?" 

"All  of  it,  Grace;  or  if  either  of  the  two  men  who 
witnessed  the  sale  were  alive  now  ;  but  they  are  both  dead, 
and  we  have  only  strong  circumstantial  evidence  to  oppose 
to  Ralph  Jarvys's  title-deed.  It  was  a  great  oversight  in 
my  father  that  the  matter  was  left  so ;  but  you  know, 
Patience,  he  was  an  easy  sort  of  man,  and  believed  all  men 
as  honest  as  himself." 

"  We  must  trust  the  Lord  with  this  whole  matter,  Daniel. 
He  isn't  goin'  to  desert  us  in  our  old  age." 

"  That's  well  put  in,  wife  ;  I  must  cast  the  burden  of  all 
this  care  upon  Him.  But  it's  hard — it's  hard  to  bear 
now."  And  the  Deacon  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
His  wife  and  daughter  had  never  seen  him  so  broken 
down  before. 

The  two  women  did  all  they  could  to  comfort  the  old 
man  with  kind  and  loving  words  and  tender  ministrations, 
but  the  hearts  of  both  were  heavy  as  they  looked  off  to  the 
future,  and  feared  the  wrong  and  suffering  which  it  might 
have  in  store  for  them ;  and  the  fair  April  day  closed 
around  the  home  of  Deacon  Palmer  as  no  April  day  had 
t  ver  done  before. 

Then  Robert,  who  knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened, 
broke  into  his  sister's  chamber,  sure  that  he  was  the  mes 
senger  of  good  tidings,  and  with  a  boyish  love  of  sport, 
whirled  a  letter  above  her  head,  crying : 

4* 


82  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  Guess  what  I've  got  here  ?" 

A  rift  of  light  pierced  the  shadows  that  lay  heavily  on 
the  young  heart  at  that  sight.  The  brother  and  sister  had 
a  merry  chase  and  struggle  after  the  letter,  and  Grace  read 
it  over  twice  in  the  fading  light,  and  when  she  laid  it  down 
there  was  a  new  brightness  on  her  face. 

"  He  is  coming  next  week,"  she  said. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  83 


CHAPTER  V. 

THIS  morning  of  which  I  write,  Grace  Palmer  had  gone 
into  the  barn  to  search  for  new-laid  eggs.  She  had  found 
a  dozen  in  the  warm,  dry  hay,  and  with  that  fine  insight 
which  makes  all  beauty  tributary  to  it,  she  gazed  admir 
ingly  on  the  eggs  as  they  lay  in  her  small  basket  like 
large,  oval  buds,  waiting  for  the  sunshine  to  unloose  them 
into  great  white  cups  of  blossoms.  During  the  week 
which  lies  between  the  close  of  the  last  chapter  and  the 
opening  of  this,  the  spring  had  been  very  busy,  doing 
great  work  with  sunshine  and  south  winds.  The  lilacs 
and  the  apple  trees  were  puffed  thick  with  tender  green 
leaves,  the  seams  of  grass  by  the  fences'had  developed  into 
dark  breadths,  and  the  pulses  of  the  earth  were  throbbing 
with  new  hope  and  strength,  for  life  had  overcome  death, 
and  spring  had  vanquished  the  winter.  The  sunshine  of 
that  April  morning  burnished  the  rafters  of  the  old  barn, 
and  kindled  the  pile  of  hay  into  a  golden  pyramid,  and 
was  like  a  poet  inspiring  with  beauty  every  homely  ob 
ject  which  it  touched  and  glorified. 

Grace  Palmer's  heart  opened  all  its  doors  to  these  sweet 
influences,  and  the  shadow  which  had  been  like  a  winter 
chill  on  all  its  youth  and  gladness  for  the  past  week,  was 
exercised  by  the  spring  morning. 

She  stood  in  the  side  door  of  the  old  barn,  and  the  face 
of  the  earth  and  the  face  of  the  girl  answered  each  other 


84:  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

as  a  poem  sometimes  does  the  air  it  is  set  to.  In  each  was 
light,  and  joy,  and  expectation.  The  year  looked  off  to  its 
future  as  Grace  looked  off  to  hers,  and  read  alike  the  pro 
phecy.  The  sweet  mouth  was  touched  with  a  light  which" 
just  escaped  pronouncing  itself  in  a  smile,  and  gave  a  sub 
tle  brightness  to  the  whole  face  like  the  sunset  atmosphere 
which  suffuses  a  painting,  and  inspired  the  sweet  blue  eyes 
looking  off  to  the  hills. 

And  as  Grace  stood  in  the  barn  door  with  her  basket  of 
eggs,  a  rider  on  horseback  drew  up  before  the  gate  of 
Deacon  Palmer's  dwelling.  He  alighted  hastily  and  walk 
ed  up  to  the  front  door ;  but  there  was  no  response  to  his 
summons,  for  Mrs.  Palmer  had  gone  over  to  her  nearest 
neighbor's  after  some  new  recipe  for  cake,  and  the  visitor 
was  evidently  somewhat  impatient,  for  at  last  he  ventured 
cautiously  round  to  the  back  door.  The  footpath  to  the 
kitchen  brought  him  in  full  view  of  the  barn,  and  be 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  burnished  head  in  the  door.  lie 
stole  softly  round  to  the  front  of  the  barn,  and  stood  a 
moment  where  he  could  get  a  full  view  of  Grace's  profile 
standing  out  soft  and  clear  from  its  brown  background. 

"  Grace !"  he  said,  softly. 

She  turned  her  head. 

"  Mr.  Dudley !"  Her  face  spoke  a  radiant  welcome,  after 
the  first  shock  of  surprise,  and  the  deep  crimson  of  the 
cheeks  had  to  say  all  the  lips  could  not. 

"  I  didn't  intend  'to  steal  a  march  on  you,  and  went  up  to 
the  front  door  in  orthodox  visiting  fashion  and  knocked 
three  times ;  and  getting  no  answer,  started  round  for  the 
kitchen  and  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  my  hostess  in  the 
barn  door." 

Grace's  laugh  combined  with  her  guest's,  the  silvery  jets 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  86 

flashing  in  and  out  of  his  like  a  bright  thread  round  a 
strong  root. 

"  I  came  out  here  to  search  for  eggs.  It  seems  to  be  my 
fate,  Mr.  Dudley,  that  you  shall  come  upon  me  in  just 
the  circumstances  where  I  should  never  think  of  expecting 
you." 

"And  those  are  just  the  places  where  I  like  to  see  you. 
But  it  is  not  my  fault  if  I  have  encountered  you  at  the 
churn  and  in  search  of  the  chickens." 

"  No  ;  Benny's  shoulders  must  bear  the  first  blame  ;  and 
I  ought  to  have  been  in  the  house  when  you  knocked  ;  but, 
the  day  spoke  to  me,  and  I  paused  a  moment  to  listen." 

They  were  going  slowly  up  to  the  house  now,  and  Grace 
looked  up  timidly  into  the  face  by  her  side.  It  was  a 
potent  face,  a  little  sun-browned  by  exposure,  but  well  cut, 
with  a  subtle  harmony  of  feature  and  expression.  It  was 
a  thoughtful,  pleasant,  manly  face — one  to  believe  in,  that 
met  you  with  frank,  clear,  steady  eyes,  whose  gaze  told 
you  that  their  owner  would  be  true  to  himself,  and,  being 
that,  would  be  true  to  all  men  besides. 

Mrs.  Palmer's  look  of  astonishment  was  amusing,  when 
she  saw  Grace  enter  the  kitchen  with  her  guest. 

"Where  did  you  come  from?"  she  asked,  before  re 
covering  herseli  sufficiently  to  shake  hands  with  her  guest, 

"  From  the  barn,  where  I  found  your  daughter  beguiled 
by  this  spring  day.  Mrs.  Palmer,  I  have  ridden  thirty 
miles  since  the  sun  rose,  to  take  dinner  with  you,  if  I  have 
an  invitation." 

"  Of  course  you  have,  Mr.  Dudley.  Take  him  right 
into  the  front  room,  Grace;"  slipping  a  skein  of  blue 
yarn  from  the  backs  of  a  couple  of  chairs  which  occupied 
the  centre  of  the  kitchen,  and  already  seeing  in  her  imagi- 


86  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

nation  a  couple  of  denuded  and  dismembered  chickens 
broiling  above  the  bright  red  coals  on  the  hearth. 

"Have  you  had  a  happy  winter  and  spring?"  asked  the 
young  man,  as  soon  as  he  was  seated  in  the  parlor. 

A  shadow  stole  into  the  girl's  face. 

"  Yes,  mostly,"  she  said.     "  And  you,  Mr.  Dudley  ?" 

"Oh,  I've  had  a  capital  time.  This  living  out  doors 
and  turning  into  a  savage,  is  just  what  I  needed  after  seven 
years'  devotion  to  Greek,  Latin,  Philosophy,  and  Mathe 
matics.  I've  gained  twenty  pounds  since  I  last  saw  you, 
and  can  offer  some  good  tough  muscle  to  my  country  when 
she  needs  it,  as  I  believe  she  will  before  May  fills  your 
lilacs  out  here  with  blossoms." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Dudley,  do  you  really  think  it  must  come  to 
that  so  soon  ?" 

"  I  don't  see  now  how  it  can  be  avoided.  Every  time 
the  stage  comes  in  I  look  for  the  tidings  that  the  first  blow 
has  been  struck  at  Boston  for  the  freedom  of  our  Colonies — 
and  that  blow  will  send  the  voice  of  a  trumpet  throughout 
the  land,  calling  upon  every  man  to  set  his  face  valiantly 
towards  the  camp  and  do  good  service  for  his  country ; 
and  Grace,  when  the  first  man  falls,  it  will  be  my  summons 
to  go!" 

"  Oh,  I  hope,  even  at  this  late  hour,  that  God  will  inter 
pose  and  avert  this  terrible  war  from  our  land !  '  The  time 
of  the  singing  of  birds  has  come ;'  and  I  have  taken  these 
fair  spring  days  as  the  year's  olive  branches  of  peace,  and 
hoped  that  every  ship  which  comes  in  from  England  will 
bring  us  tidings  of  a  change  wrought  in  the  hearts  of  her 
king  and  her  parliament,  just  as  the  south  winds  bring  us 
tidings  from  the  summer." 

"  God  grant  it  may  be  so,  oh  fair  interpretress  of  times 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  87 

and  seasons.  But  what  if  you  have  read  the  vision  wrongly, 
and  God  sends  us  the  sunshine  and  the  singing  of  birds  as 
a  token  of  His  love  while  the  darkness  and  the  storms  fill 
our  moral  atmosphere?" 

"  Then  we  will  accept  the  sign  still,  and  follow  it  through 
the  wilderness,  knowing  that  the  people  whose  '  God  is  the 
Lord,  must  triumph  sooner  or  later,  because  that  good  is 
greater  than  evil,  and  God  stronger  than  Satan.' " 

The  young  man  slipped  his  hand  over  and  covered  the 
hand  of  Grace  Palmer.  It  was  a  small,  soft  hand,  though 
it  was  skilful  in  all  the  range  of  housewifery,  and  had  been 
familiar  with  every  kind  of  domestic  labor. 

"  I  like  to  hear  you  talk  so,"  said  Edward  Dudley.  "  I 
know  now,  Grace,  that  you  have  laid  the  foundations  of  your 
principles  in  truth  and  justice.  And  when  man  or  woman 
chooses  these,  they  have  settled  the  great  question  of  life — 
they  are  at  rest ;  the  atmosphere  clears  itself  up  about 
them,  their  judgment  is  sound,  and  they  do  not  see  things 
through  a  cloud  of  misapprehension,  and  are  not  governed 
by  fitful  impulses  and  imaginations." 

Their  conversation  did  not  go  on  altogether  after  this 
grave  fashion,  as  they  sat  by  the  open  window  that  April 
morning — Grace  with  some  embroidery  in  her  hand,  for 
industry  was  become  a  habit  with  her.  Their  talk  went 
right  and  left,  touching  a  thousand  subjects,  and  was 
sprinkled  all  over  with  keen  jests,  and  flashes  of  mirth  and 
of  humor,  though  Edward  Dudley's  character  was  "  drawn 
on  a  grave  reserve."  Grace's  reading  and  studies  formed  a 
prominent  topic  of  the  conversation ;  and  Mrs.  Palmer 
interpolated  herself  occasionally  during  the  time  for  courte 
sy's  sake— now  bringing  her  skein  of  yarn  to  wind,  now 
putting  her  anxious  face  inside  the  door  to  consult  Grace 


88  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

about  the  dinner,  and  whether  mince  pie  or  baked  Indian 
pudding  had  better  succeed  the  broiled  chicken. 

"  It's  lucky  enough  that  I  saved  that  last  bottle  of  cur 
rant  wine,"  murmured  the  busy  woman,  as  she  turned  the 
various  members  of  two  chickens  on  the  gridiron.  "  What 
a  nice  brown  that  chicken  is  coming  to.  Dear  me !  To 
think  I'm  to  have  the  minister's  nephew  here  to  dinner 
and  father  away,  and  there's  no  knowin'  whether  he's  used 
to  askin'  a  blessin'.  How  he  did  come  in  too — jist  like  one 
of  the  family.  It's  evident  enough  he's  struck ;  I've  felt 
this  ever  since  them  letters  began  to  come ;  but  Grace  has 
been  shy  as  a  young  colt  about  speakin'.  But  there's 
no  use  in  placin'  any  dependence  on  anything  in  this  world, 
now-a-days.  There's  that  business  of  Jarvys's !" — and  Mrs. 
Palmer  concluded  her  monologue  with  a  sigh  and  a  solemn 
shake  of  the  head,  and  proceeded  to  lay  the  table-cloth  for 
dinner. 

Mrs.  Palmer  told  her  husband  afterwards  that  Edward 
Dudley  almost  beat  his  uncle  at  the  blessing  he  invoked  at 
the  dinner  that  day. 

The  trio  lingered  long  around  that  dinner-table  in  the 
old  kitchen,  and  the  broiled  chicken  floated  in  a  golden 
sea  of  gravy ;  the  mince  pie,  with  its  white  ruffling  rising 
like  small  hillocks  around  the  white  lake  of  crust ;  the 
Indian  pudding,  whose  mellow  heart  Mrs.  Palmer  cleft  with 
the  merciless  skill  of  a  surgeon — would  have  allayed  any 
appetite  sharpened  by  a  ride  of  twenty-five  miles;  and 
Grace  and  her  mother  were  entertained  with  such  droll 
accounts  of  the  young  traveller's  first  experience  in  the 
wilderness  that  they  were  several  times  fairly  overcome 
with  laughter.  And  that  dinner  became  afterwards  to  each 
one  like  a  light  shining  down  through  storm  and  darkness, 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUIl  FATHERS.  89 

and  their  memories  went  back  and  sat  again  in  sweet 
visions  around  the  old  cherry  table  in  the  kitchen  at 
Deacon  Palmer's. 

They  had  just  arisen,  and  Grace  was  about  returning  to 
the  parlor  with  her  guest,  when  Robert  burst  into  the 
kitchen.  The  boy's  face  was  white,  and  he  panted  for 
breath  as  though  some  sudden  evil  tidings  had  fairly 
swept  speech  and  sense  away  from  him. 

"  Have  you  heard  ?"  gasped  the  boy. 

"No;  anything  happened  to  your  father  or  Benny?" 
exclaimed  his  mother,  her  heart  instantly  taking  alarm. 

"No,  it  isn't  that.  They've  just  got  word  that  we've 
had  a  battle !" 

"Who  was  victor?  Speak  quick,  Eobert!"  cried  Ed 
ward  Dudley,  with  a  sharp  ring  in  his  voice  which  told 
one  how  much  lay  behind  the  words. 

"  The  first  blood  was  spilt  at  Lexington.  Eight  of  our 
men  fell  there,  and  the  rest  were  put  to  flight.  But  when 
the  British  set  out  for  Boston,  our  men  had  the  best  of  it. 
The  yeomanry  hurried  in  from  all  around  the  country,  and 
hid  themselves  behind  the  trees  and  the  fences,  and  took 
good  aim,  and  made  the  red-coats  pay  a  round  price  for 
them  eight  men  that  lay  dead  on  the  field  at  Lexington  !" 
and  a  flash  of  joy  went  over  the  boy's  face,  and  it  was 
answered  by  three  others. 

"Go  on, boy;  go  on!"  cried  Edward  Dudley,  making  a 
strong  effort  at  self-control. 

"  Well,  Lord  Percy  came  up  at  last  with  a  brigade,  for 
he  had  been  sent  from  Boston  in  the  morning  by  General 
Gage  to  aid  the  British.  He  went  through  Eoxbury  gay 
enough,  marching  to  the  tune  of  Yankee-Doodle,  to  incense 
our  men.  But  he  was  taken  down  when  he  got  up  with 


90  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

the  troops,  and  found  they'd  almost  given  up.  They  had 
hot  work  both  sides  on  the  retreat.  Our  men  kept  up 
a  sharp  firing,  and  the  British  revenged  themselves  by 
burning  and  plundering  houses,  and  making  all  the  havoc 
that  they  could  along  the  road.  Lord  Percy  came  near 
being  killed  himself,  and  near  Prospect  Hill  our  men  did 
their  best  work,  and  didn't  bring  up  till  they  got  to  Charles- 
town  Common." 

"  What  was  their  loss  ?" 

"  Seventy-three  killed  of  theirs,  and  ours  forty-nine." 

"  The  first  blow  has  been  struck,"  said  Edward  Dudley. 
"  Every  true  patriot  has  but  one  straight  way  before  him, 
and  that  leads  to  the  Continental  army  at  Boston.  I  shall 
take  it  to-night." 

"  Our  men  are  hurrying  up.  There's  a  company  going 
to  start  before  sundown.  Oh,  mother,  I  must  go  with 
-them  !" 

"Wait,  Robert,  until  you've  got  a  little  stouter  muscles 
and  stronger  arms  to  give  to  your  country,"  interposed 
Edward  Dudley.  "  We  shall  want  you  in  good  time ; 
only  have  patience." 

"Shall  you  really  go  to-night,  Mr.  Dudley?"  Grace 
tried  to  keep  her  voice  steady  along  the  words,  but  it 
played  her  traitor,  and  sank  and  failed  her  before  she 
got  through. 

"  Where  else  should  I  go,  Grace,  when  my  country  calls 
like  this  ?  You  will  give  me  your  '  God  speed'  before  I 
start?" 

She  looked  up  in  his  face  and  tried  to  fashion  the  words, 
but  her  lips  played  her  false  again  ;  for  a  great  sob  palpi- . 
tated  in  her  throat,  and,  trying  to  swallow  it  back,  the  tears 
strained  into  her  eyes.     The  sight  of  them  moved  the  soul 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  91 

of  Edward  Dudley  as  it  had  never  been  moved  before. 
He  led  his  hostess  into  the  parlor,  and,  sitting  down  on  the 
old-fashioned  lounge  mounted  with  brass-headed  nails,  he 
said  to  her : 

"  Grace,  it  is  a  strange  time  to  speak  the  words  which  I 
have  carried  in  my  heart  for  you  through  all  the  winter ; 
but  now  that  I  am  going  away  to  offer  my  life  for  my 
country,  I  have  but  one  gift  left,  and  that  is  for  the  woman : 
that  I  love ;  Grace  Palmer,  will  you  take  the  heart  that  I 
give  you  ?" 

The  gift  had  come  in  too  trying  an  hour.  No  shrinking 
of  natural  timidity  moved  the  soul  of  the  listening  girl. 
The  hand  which  Edward  Dudley  held  lay  still  in  his,  and 
long,  slow  sobs  only  answered  him. 

"  Grace,  you  will  not  let  me  go  like  this ;  you  will  let 
me  know  whether  I  have  a  right  to  carry  you,  tender  and 
beloved,  through  whatever  of  weal  or  woe  lies  before  me 
in  this  war,  whose  end  no  man  can  foresee  ?" 

There  was  a  wild  throb  of  joy  in  the  heart  of  Edward 
Dudley,  for  the  fingers  he  grasped  tightened  on  his  when 
he  next  ceased  to  speak. 

"  Dear  Grace  !" — he  drew  his  arm  about  the  sobbing  girl 
— "  look  up  with  your  steady  eyes  and  your  brave  heart, 
and  give  me  courage.  Let  me  hear  you  say :  '  For  life  or 
for  death  !'  " 

"  For  life  or  for  death  !"  It  came  underneath  her  breath, 
but  steady,  clear,  and  strong;  and  then  her  sobs  grew 
quiet  as  the  significance  of  that  solemn  betrothal  came 
over  her. 

It  lifted  them  both  out  of  all  ordinary  range  of  feeling 
and  emotion  into  a  fine  exaltation  of  sacrifice.  They  look 
ed  out  of  the  east  windows  to  no  land  of  love  and  promise 


92  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

such  as  youth  loves  to  dwell  on ;  no  fair  home  shone  a 
sweet  picture  down  the  long,  flowery  perspective  of  the 
visions  of  Edward  Dudley  and  Grace  Palmer. 

This  betrothal  was  sanctified  by  a  deep  and  mighty  sor 
row,  for  each  felt  that  a  separation  was  close  at  hand 
which  might  be  eternal ;  and  they  sat  together  for  an  hour 
in  solemn  joy  and  sorrow,  and  their  souls  were  before  God ! 
At  the  end  of  this  time  the  Deacon  and  his  wife  entered 
the  room.  The  face  of  the  former  had  grown  half-a-score 
of  years  older  since  Edward  Dudley  saw  it  in  the  autumn. 
The  old  man  and  the  young  one  shook  hands  almost  in 
silence,  for  the  tidings  they  had  heard  overwhelmed  for  a 
time  the  strongest. 

There  was  a  flash  of  joy  through  the  hearts  of  the  aged 
couple  when  they  understood  the  true  state  of  things ;  but 
the  congratulations  and  blessings  struggled  up  through 
hearts  heavy  with  doubt  and  fears.  Then  came  the  leave- 
taking,  and  the  Deacon  and  his  wife  judiciously  left  their 
daughter  alone  at  this  trying  crisis  with  the  man  into  whose 
keeping  she  had  committed  her  sweet  'womanhood. 

"  I  must  go  now.     Be  a  brave  girl,  my  darling  !" 

He  saw  she  would  be  when  he  looked  at  her  face,  ex 
alted  with  enthusiasm  and  self-sacrifice  until  it  seemed  to 
Edward  Dudley  that  the  face  of  Grace  Palmer  was  the  face 
of  an  angel. 

They  stood  together  in  the  front  door.  lie  looked. clown 
on  the  hand  which  he  held,  and  he  slipped  his  fingers  over 
the  soft  palm  in  a  mute  caress. 

"  It's  a  little  hand,  Grace,"  he  said,  "  delicate  and  respon 
sive." 

"But  it  can  hold  fast  for  life  or  for  death  I"  she  said. 

"  And  if,  darling — if  I  should  never  come  back  to  you, 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OP  OUK  FATHEES.  93 

but  find  my  grave  off  there  on  some  battle-field,  doing  my 
duty,  you  would  not  let  the  storm  blight  your  whole  life; 
you  would  remember,  when  the  first  sharp  grief  had  passed 
away,  that  I  had  only  gone  first,  and  every  night  would 
bring  you  nearer  to  me." 

The  storm  went  over  and  shook  her  for  a  moment ;  how 
could  it  be  otherwise,  for  her  heart  was  the  heart  of  a 
woman ! 

Then  she  lifted  up  her  face.  "1^  would  remember  it, 
Edward — living  or  dead  we  shall  never  be  apart !" 

"Never  apart!"  he  repeated,  and  they  both  smiled  in 
solemn  exultation  at  that  thought. 

A  small  ringlet,  through  which  glimmered  a  light  like 
gold,  had  drifted  over  Grace's  ear.  The  young  man  seized 
a  pair  of  shears  which  lay  on  the  window-sill  and  severed 
the  ringlet.  "I  must  take  so  much  of  you  with  me, 
Grace !" 

Her  eyes  said  that. he  would  take  more  than  that. 

"  Good-bye,  Grace,  my  beloved !  With  the  one  Love 
greater  than  mine  leave  I  thee  !" 

"  Good-bye,  Edward,  my  soldier.  God  go  with  you  ; 
and  oh !  God  bring  you  back  to  me !" 

These  last  words  slid  up  in  a  groan  from  the  girl's  heart, 
and  she  knew  it  found  a  deep  echo  in  another's — -deep 
though  silent,  for  there  were  no  more  words  here,  only  a 
long  silent  gaze  which  drank  in  each  face,  and  so  they 
went  apart;  he,  as  man  always  has,  for  the  stir  and  bustle 
of  the  camp,  the  wild  excitement  and  fierce  charge  of  the 
battle-field  ;  and  she  for  the  slow,  weary  days  in  the  silence 
of  her  home,  for  the  bitter  tears,  and  wasti  ng  heart-aches 
and  prayers  that  have  worn  away  the  long  sleepless  nights. 

The  path  which  Edward  Dudley  took,  after  leaving  the 


94:  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

Deacon's,  led  through  a  half  mile  of  dense  woods  out  into 
the  turnpike,  and  past  the  old  Mill  Tavern.  As  he  drew 
near  this  he  suddenly  encountered  Nathaniel  Trueman, 
who  was  hurrying  towards  the  house.  The  two  young  men 
shook  hands,  and  each  read  the  thought  which  filled  the 
heart  of  the  other. 

"  Are  you  going?"  asked  Nathaniel. 

"  In  two  hours  I  shall  start." 

"  So  shall  I,"  said  Nathaniel,  a  look  of  deadly  resolve 
on  the  young,  beautiful  face. 

"Can  you  stand  it  ?"  asked  his  friend,  solicitously.  "  You 
look  so  young  and  slender,  and  we  shall  have  a  hard  life 
and  hot  fighting." 

"  The  harder  and  the  hotter  the  greater  reason  I  should 
be  in  the  midst  of  it.  No,  Mr.  Dudley;  I  know  I'm  young 
and  not  very  stout  yet;  but  what  I  am,  that  I  give  to 
my  country." 

Edward  Dudley  looked  on  the  young  face  ;  this  was  no 
glow  of  boyish  enthusiasm  which  would  vanish  before  the 
severe  ordeals  to  which  it  must  soon  be  subjected.  The 
youth's  voice  had  the  true  ring  about  it,  and  his  face 
spoke  for  him. 

Edward  Dudley's  soul  was  moved  towards  Nathaniel 
Trueman  ;  he  grasped  his  hand  vehemently.  "  Brother 
soldier,"  he  said,  "we  will  go  together.  "We  will  share 
one  fate,  whatever  it  be." 

The  face  of  Nathaniel  was  radiant. 

"  When  shall  I  meet  you  ?"  he  said. 

"  In  two  hours,  at  my  uncle's  gate."  And  the  two  young 
men  grasped  each  other's  hands  and  parted  in  silence. 

Nearly  two  hours  later,  Nathaniel  Trueman  stood  at  the 
kitchen  door  of  the  old  tavern,  with  a  small  bundle  slung 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR   FATHERS.  95 

across  his  shoulder,  and  his  mother  was  crowding  down 
into  the  pocket  of  his  greatcoat  something  carefully  tied 
up  in  thick  brown  paper. 

"  I  mustn't  wait  another  minute — come,  mother — Lucy, 
give  me  a  last  kiss  and  your  blessing,"  said  the  youth,  and 
his  tones  answered  to  his  face ;  there  was  a  little  unsteadi 
ness  and  pain  in  both,  and  in  both  a  fixed  and  rooted 
purpose  which  nothing  could  shake. 

Lucy  came  out  of  the  pantry,  the  sweet  roses  all  frightened 
out  of  her  cheeks ;  she  laid  her  face  up  softly  against  her 
brother's.  "  Oh,  Nathaniel !"  and  the  rest  was  lost  in  a 
sob. 

"  Come,  now,  this  won't  do  for  a  soldier's  sister,  Lucy. 
I  want  a  smile  instead  of  a  sob,  and  a  God-speed  instead 
of  a  groan.  Wait  until  I  come  back  with  a  plume  in  my 
cap  and  epaulettes  on  my  shoulders,  and  you'll  be  proud 
then  of  your  soldier  brother." 

And  Lucy  tried  to  smile,  but  it  was  a  poor,  faint  result, 
little  better  than  failure.  "  God  take  care  of  you,  Nathaniel, 
little  brother."  It  was  the  old  pet  name,  when  the  boy 
and  girl  used  to  go  hand  in  hand  through  the  low  pastures 
to  school ;  no  wonder  it  faltered  and  fell  in  a  groan,  heavy 
with  all  its  burden  of  old,  sweet  memories.  Nathaniel  was 
obliged  to  put  up  with  it.  He  kissed  the  round  cheeks 
fervently  half  a  dozen  of  times,  and  then  turned  to  his 
mother. 

Mrs.  Trueman  had  been  mostly  silent  for  the  last  hour, 
saying  only  what  was  absolutely  necessary  in  the  way  of 
making  preparations  for  her  son's  departure,  and  going 
about  quietly  and  seeing  that  everything  was  done  for  his 
comfort  that  the  brief  time  allowed.  It  is  true  that  she 
came  very  near  dropping  on  the  floor  when  he  first  en- 


96  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

tered  and  briefly  announced  his  resolve  to  start  for  the 
camp  in  less  than  two  hours. 

And  she  had  met  this  determination  of  her  son's  with 
settled  but  brief  opposition.  She  had  tried  argument  and 
entreaty,  but  she  had  been  borne  down  by  a  will  stronger 
than  her  own,  and  Mrs.  Trueman  was  quite  too  sensible  a 
•woman  to  pursue  her  opposition  where  she  saw  that  it 
would  be  of  no  avail ;  and  she  at  once  set  herself  to  work, 
the  pale  face  and  compressed  lips  only  telling  of  the  strug 
gle  going  on  within  her  heart. 

"  Mother,  won't  you  say  what  Lucy  has  ?"    asked  the 
youth. 
•    Mrs.  Trueman  put  her  arms  about  her  boy's  neck  : 

"  Oh,  my  boy,  if  anything  should  happen  to  you,  your 
mother  never  would  lift  up  her  head  again  in  this  world  ! 
Kem ember,  you're  all  she's  got,  and  she  loves  you  better 
than  life  a  thousand  times,  and  there  won't  be  a  minute  of 
the  day  or  night  in  which  her  thoughts  won't  go  after  you  ; 
and  sometimes  she'll  wake  up  in  the  night,  darlin','  and  see 
her  pretty  boy  lyin'  white  and  cold  on  the  battle-field,  and 
the  little  shinin'  rings  of  hair  she  used  to  twine  round  her 
fingers  all  tangled  up  and  red  with  blood,  and  there  wont 
be  anybody  to  tell  her  it  isn't  true.  Oh,  Nathaniel,  what 
will  your  mother  do  then  !"  and  she  clung  to  him,  shudder 
ing. 

No  wonder  the  heart  of  the  boy  of  seventeen  failed  him 
for  a  moment.  A  sob  came  up  in  his  throat,  and  there 
flashed  across  him  a  doubt  whether  his  duty  to  his  mother 
was  not  greater  than  his  duty  to  his  country ;  and  his 
answer,  when  he  could  speak,  revealed  the  conflict  in  his 
thoughts. 

"  Mother,"  said  Nathaniel  Trueman,  "  don't  talk  of  that ; 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  97 

God  can  take  care  of  me  on  the  battle-field  as  well  as  under 
your  roof;  but  if  you  can't  give  me  your  blessing,  and  if 
you  believe  that  my  father,  who  has  left  me  to  take  his 
place  to  you,  would  say  to  me,  '  Nathaniel,  stay  with  your 
mother,  for  you're  all  she's  got  in  my  stead,'  I  won't  go  this 
day." 

Mrs.  Trueman  looked  up  and  her  heart  smote  her,  for 
she  knew  the  struggle  these  words  must  have  cost  her  son, 
and  she  felt  that  if  his  father  had  been  alive  that  day  he 
would  have  done  just  what  Nathaniel  was  doing.  She  did 
not  dare  to  speak  the  one  word  which  would  have  kept 
him;  and  when  the  short,  sharp  struggle  of  the  mother- 
heart  was  over,  she  answered : 

"  No,  Nathaniel ;  it's  givin'  up  more  than  my  life  ;  but  I 
see  your  heart's  bent  on  goin',  and  God  go  with  you  and 
cover  your  head  in  the  day  of  battle,  my  boy — my  sweet, 
pretty  boy,  Nathaniel !" 

There  was  no  time  for  more  words.  She  put  her  arms 
about  the  young  neck  again  ;  she  hugged  the  slender  form 
to  her  heart  with  a  long,  greedy  strain,  and  then  the  mother 
and  sister  were  alone. 

Mrs.  Trueman  sat  down  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  There  was  no  word  spoken,  and  the  sobs  of  Lucy 
were  low  and  deep,  shaking  the  little  plump  figure  to  and 
fro  like  a  storm.  But  suddenly  her  mother  bounded  from 
her  chair  and  rushed  out  of  the  door,  and  down  to  the 
garden  gate.  She  saw  the  light,  rapid  figure  some  distance 
up  the  turnpike,  and  in  a  moment  a  bend  in  the  road 
would  have  hid  it  from  view. 

"  Nathaniel,  Nathaniel !" 

The  loud,  eager  call  swept  down  the  road  and  caught 
the  youth. 

5 


98  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  You'll  find  the  mince-pie,  and  the  gingerbread,  and  the 
crullers,  in  your  hinder  pocket,  under  the  blue  woollen 
stockin's ;  mind,  now." 

"  I'll  remember,  mother." 

The  voice  came  back  clear  and  cheerful  on  the  soft  April 
•winds ;  but  as  Nathaniel  turned,  he  brushed  something 
from  his  eye  which  no  soft  April  winds  had  persuaded 
there. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  99 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  RICHARD,"  said  Jarvys  the  elder,  throwing  his  square, 
burly  figure  into  a  heavy  arm-chair  one  evening  in  the 
opening  of  June,  while  his  grey  eyes  snapped  triumphantly 
— "  I've  got  that  matter  of  Palmer's  well  under  way." 

Richard  Jarvys  sat  in  a  small  recess  by  the  window.  He 
laid  down  the  paper  which  he  was  reading  with  a  little 
exultant  whistle : 

"  That's  good,"  he  said.  "  I  hadn't  heard  anything 
about  it  for  so  long  that  I'd  about  concluded  you  thought 
the  thing  wouldn't  pay  and  was  going  to  let  her  slide." 

Jarvys  the  elder  snapped  his  fingers. 

"  Trust  me  for  that.  I  don't  let  a  bird  stay  in  the 
bushes  long  when  there's  a  chance  of  trapping  it.  But  this 
confounded  war  has  got  everything  out  of  shape,  and  I've 
had  business  on  hand  that's  drove  all  other  matters  out  of 
mind  for  a  time ;  but  now  I've  got  them  ships  fitted  out 
for  privateerin',  and  hope  good  luck'll  fetch  me  in  some 
rich  hauls,  I've  turned  my  attention  to  the  Palmers." 

"  What  have  you  done,  anyhow  ?"  asked  the  son  and 
heir,  crossing  one  limb  over  the  other  with  an  appearance 
of  deep  interest. 

u  I've  put  the  whole  thing  in  lawyer  Wyman's  hands — 
capital  fellow,  that  Wyman.  If  there's  a  hitch  in  a  bill  of 
sale,  or  a  will,  or  a  title-deed,  he's  sure  to  sniff  it  out ;  and 
he's  sent  a  doc'ment  to  the  Deacon  that'll  give  him  some- 


100  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

thin'  beside  bis  Bible  to  chaw  on ;"  and  the  man  rubbed 
his  hands  with  evident  satisfaction  at  this  abortive  attempt 
at  a  joke. 

The  June  winds,  with  their  sweet  breath  of  spices,  came 
in  softly  at  the  open  window,  for  the  roses  burned  like 
great  clusters  of  carbuncles  on  the  bush  by  the  front  door, 
and  mingled  with  their  breath  the  faint  seasoning  of  the  sea- 
breeze,  for  the  tide  was  coming  in.  The  sunset,  too,  lay 
upon  the  carpet  in  great  furrows  of  golden  light.  Suddenly, 
in  the  midst  of  this  conversation  betwixt  father  and  son, 
there  came  a  soft,  light  tap  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in  !"  The  gruff  tones  of  Mr.  Jarvys  raised 
themselves  slightly  in  answer  to  the  timid  summons,  which 
he  fancied  came  from  the  hand  of  a  little  child. 

Great  was  the  surprise  of  the  old  man  and  the  young 
when  the  door  opened  and  revealed  Grace  Palmer,  the 
small  buds  opening  and  failing  in  her  cheeks ;  and  yet  a 
steady  purpose  sat  in  the  dark  blue  eyes  and  controlled  the 
sweet,  unbent  mouth. 

"  Walk  in,  Miss  Palmer,"  said  the  elder  man,  rising, 
while  the  younger  one  sank  back  further  in  the  recess,  his 
whole  face  crimsoned  with  surprise  and — several  other 
feelings  of  which  he  was  not  distinctly  conscious. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  alone,  Mr.  Jarvys,"  chimed  the 
silvery  voice  which  suited  the  face,  and  which  yet  had  a 
timid  tremor  throbbing  in  and  out  of  it ;  and  Grace  Palmer 
took  her  seat. 

The  man  glanced  towards  the  recess  in  the  corner,  but 
his  son  had  shrunk  further  back  and  evidently  did  not 
wish  to  be  discovered. 

Mr.  Jarvys  certainly  felt  awkward  under  the  gaze  of 
those  large,  soft  eyes ;  so  he  determined  to  put  a  bold  face 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  101 

on  the  matter,  and  he  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
bowed. 

"  Can  I  serve  you  in  any  way,  Miss  Palmer  ?" 

The  blue,  steady  eyes  were  on  his  face,  and  Grace's 
courage  was  evidently  gaining  the  ascendancy  over  her  first 
embarrassment. 

"  I  hope  that  you  can  and  will ;  but  I  wish  first  to 
inform  you,  Mr.  Jarvys,  that  I  have  sought  this  interview 
without  the  knowledge  of  a  human  being — that  none  of 
my  family  have  the  remotest  suspicion  of  it." 

"  Exactly,"  interposed  Mr.  Jarvys,  not  knowing  precisely 
what  else  to  say. 

"  And  it  is  for  my  father's  sake  I  have  come  ;"  the  sil 
very  voice  gaining  poise  and  earnestness  as  it  proceeded. 
"  Mr.  Jarvys,  I  thought  that  you  might  be  induced  to  listen 
to  his  daughter ;  that  you  would  not  turn  a  deaf  ear  and  a 
hard  heart  to  what  I  have  come  to  say  to  you." 

Mr.  Jarvys  began  now  to  forestall  the  purpose  of  the 
young  lady's  visit.  A  dogged  expression  of  resistance 
began  to  steal  over  his  face  and  supplant  its  slight  self-con 
scious  smirk. 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Palmer  ;  I'm  ready  enough  to  hear  all 
that  you've  got  to  say  ;  only  business  is  business,  and  it  ain't 
quite  so  agreeable  to  do  that  with  a  young  woman  and  a 
pretty  one  ;"  with  a  feeble  attempt  at  flattery. 

Grace  was  too  intent  on  the  object  of  her  visit  to  notice 
or  feel  this.  This  time  her  words  went  direct  to  the  point. 

"  Sir,  you  know  that  my  father  is  an  old  man,  and  I 
have  come  here  to  beg  you  not  to  break  his  heart  and  my 
mother's — not  to  take  away  our  home  from  us  if  the  law 
puts  the  power  into  your  hands." 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  answered  the  man,  with  a 


102  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

smile  which  touched  a  little  on  a  smirk  and  a  little  on  a 
sneer,  and  yet  attempted  to  be  polite.  "But  business  is 
business,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  sir,  do  not  say  that !" 

In  her  eagerness,  she  leaned  her  head  forward,  and  the 
sweet,  wistful  face  was  brought  full  into  the  surreptitious 
gaze  of  Richard  Jarvys.  He  saw  the  tears  blurring  the 
blue  eyes,  he  heard  the  entreating  voice. 

"  You  will  not  break  the  hearts  of  my  poor  father  and 
mother ;  you  will  not  turn  us  all  helpless  into  the  street ; 
you  will  not  take  away  the  house  which  shelters  us,  when 
you  know  in  your  heart  that  it  honestly  belongs  to  us !" 

"I  never  know  anything  except  what  the  law  tells  me, 
Miss  Palmer,"  answered  Mr.  Jarvys,  curtly,  for  these  last 
words  had  stung  the  man,  and  his  face  settled  down  into  a 
sullen  determination  which  gave  to  Grace  Palmer  no  ray 
of  hope. 

"  Oh,  sir,  do  not  say  that !  Have  pity  upon  us  if  we 
are  in  your  power,  and  leave  us  our  home.  You  have 
money  enough  to  last  you.  all  the  years  of  your  life,  and 
when  you  come  to  lie  down  on  your  death-bed  it  will  not 
be  any  comfort  to  remember  that  you  turned  a  poor  old 
man  and  his  helpless  family  out  from  the 'home  which  had 
sheltered  them  all  of  their  lives." 

The  brave  girl  kept  her  voice  steady,  but  the  tears  had 
overleaped  the  blue  eyes  now,  and  lay  on  the  fair  young 
cheeks  beneath  them.  It  seemed  as  if  it  could  not  be  in 
the  heart  of  man  to  resist  that  sweet,  pleading  face  of  Grace 
Palmer's,  pleading  for  more  than  her  life. 

Perhaps  for  the  moment,  as  he  gazed,  the  heart  of  the 
man  was  touched  ;  perhaps  the  angels  who  watched  him  at 
that  hour  saw  that  a  feeling  of  relenting  and  regret  stirred 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  103 

his  soul.  His  face  almost  seemed  to  relax,  but  it  harden 
ed  the  next  moment ;  the  old  greed  and  the  old  avarice 
overcame  it,  and  the  moment  of  grace  was  passed  for  Jar- 
vys  the  elder. 

"  Miss  Palmer,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  harsher  and 
harder  than  ever,  "  it  is  no  use  to  talk  to  me  after  this 
fashion.  When  a  thing's  mine  I'll  have  it  spite  of  God, 
man,  or  the  devil,  if  I  can  get  hold  of  it;  and  there's  an 
end  on't.  The  old  Palmer  homestead  belongs  to  me  by 
law,  and  because  your  folks  have  held  it  wrongfully  this 
three-score  of  years,  it's  no  sign  that  I  shouldn't  have  my 
rights  at  last ;  and  I  am  not  to  be  frightened  out  of  gettin' 
them  by  an}'-  talk  on  religion  ;  and  I  reckon  my  last  day'll 
be  able  to  take  care  of  itself.  At  any  rate,  I  ain't  goin'  to 
be  cheated  out  of  my  rights  now  for  any  fears  of  that." 

The  ship-owner  finished  his  speech  with  an  angry  flush 
mounting  all  over  his  face ;  for  the  words  of  Grace  Palmer 
had  stung  him  more  than  he  would  have  liked  to  own,  and 
he  sat  looking  at  her  in  a  hard,  defiant  way,  with  a  lurid 
flash  in  his  grey  eyes. 

It  was  worth  considerable  to  see  Grace  Palmer  at  that 
moment.  She  rose  up  and  looked  her  host  in  the  face 
with  her  calm,  dauntless  eyes.  The  last  tinge  of  color  had 
fled  from  her  cheeks,  but  there  was  no  tremor  on  the  lips 
set  in  those  new,  stern  lines,  nor  in  the  clear  ring  of  the 
voice  that  answered  steadfast  as  the  eyes : 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Jarvys;  I  shall  not  urge  you  farther. 
The  God  whose  name  you  have  just  defied  be  witness 
betwixt  us  this  hour  that  I  did  not  come  for  myself;  that 
I  came  only  to  plead  for  the  grey  hairs  of  my  father  and 
mother,  because  I  longed  to  see  their  last  years  go  down 
in  peace  under  their  own  roof.  And  remember,  sir,  I 


104  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

have  asked  this  of  the  man  whose  grandfather  my  own 
risked  his  life  to  save,  and  who  said,  when  he  sold  him  the 
land  where  our  house  now  stands :  '  You  have  paid  for  it 
a  thousand  times  more  than  this  gold  ;'  and  remember  that 
at  the  day  of  reckoning,  which  is  surely  coming  for  you, 
there  shall  rise  up  in  witness  against  you  one  man — your 
own  grandfather!" 

And  she  went  out  of  the  door  carrying  her  fair  white 
face  steadily;  and  looking  at  the  two  then,  one  would 
never  have  thought  that  it  was  Grace  Palmer  who  had 
been  the  supplicant,  for  the  ship-owner  cowed  under  the 
words  of  the  girl ;  and  the  clear,  incisive  tones  were  like 
blows  which  struck  home  on  his  soul  and  staggered  it  for 
a  moment.  His  face  was  white,  and  had  a  scared,  cowed 
look  as  he  turned  it  towards  his  son.  Then  he  tried  to 
shake  off  the  whole  thing  with  sneer  and  bravado.  Mr. 
Jarvys  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  Well,  Dick,  that  girl  was  cut  out  either  for  a  tragedy 
actress  or  a  methodist  preacher.  By  King  George,  she 
beats  her  father  all  hollow.  She's  handsome  as  a  pictur', 
too  !  It  was  worth  takin'  a  smart  blessin'  to  look  at  them 
eyes  and  that  face  o'  hern." 

Richard  Jarvys  came  out  of  the  recess  where  he  had 
hidden  himself,  his  face  pale  and  agitated. 

"  Father,  I  think  you  was  quite  too  hard  on  her." 

"  Likely  it  seems  so  to  you.  When  I  was  of  your  age 
my  heart  wasn't  as  tough  as  it  is  now,  and  I  should  have 
yielded  at  once  to  the  pleadin'  and  the  preachin' ;  but  years 
do  to  a  man  what  they  do  to  an  oak,  Dick  ;  they  toughen 
him — they  toughen  him,  I  say." 

"  Well,  father,  there's  such  a  thing  as  carrying  the  tough 
ening  process  too  far.  I'd  rather  never  have  owned  a  rod 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  105 

of  the  Palmer  homestead,  than  had  that  girl  go  out  of  our 
house  in  that  fashion." 

Jarvys  the  elder  glanced  up  furtively  at  his  son.  The 
young  man's  whole  face  held  a  variety  of  feelings  which 
he  could  not  well  have  expressed ;  but  mortification,  re 
gret,  agitation,  each  in  turn  replaced  the  other. 

"  Dick,"  said  his  father,  while  a  flash  of  conviction 
crossed  the  keen  eyes,  "  if  you've  taken  a  fancy  to  that 
girl  that's  just  given  your  father  such  a  blessin',  now's 
your  time  to  strike.  I'll  throw  in  the  homestead  for  a 
marriage  portion,  and  you'll  get  a  pretty  face  and  a  sharp 
tongue  to  match  it." 

It  was  very  doubtful  whether  the  elder  man  was  in 
earnest,  for  there  was  a  sneer  in  his  tones  which  somewhat 
qualified  his  promise ;  but  Eichard  was  too  much  under 
the  influence  of  conflicting  feelings  to  observe  this.  The 
sight  of  Grace  Palmer's  face  kindled  out  of  its  usual  grave 
sweetness,  had  roused  the  passion  which  had  been  smother 
ed  in  wounded  pride,  and  jealousy,  and  bitterness,  for  a 
season.  A  sudden  impulse  seized  the  young  man  to 
follow  Grace  and  act  upon  his  father's  suggestion.  He 
caught  his  hat  and  hurried  out  of  the  house,  and  the 
sweet,  pale  face  went  like  a  vision  before  the  thoughts  of 
Eichard  Jarvys. 

"  Grace ! — Grace  Palmer !" 

She  was  turning  into  the  lane  which  led  up  to  her 
father's  house  when  the  voice  of  Eichard  Jarvys  stole 
up  to  her.  Grace  turned  quickly.  The  courage  which 
nad  upheld  her  in  the  interview  with  the  ship-owner  was 
gone  now,  and  a  great  revulsion  of  feeling  had  swept 
over  her.  The  tears  were  flowing  stilly  down  her  cheeks. 
Eichard  saw  them  in  the  soft  evening  light;  for  the  sun 

5* 


106  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

had  by  this  time  gone  beyond  the  hills,  and  a  great  lake 
of  burnished  gold  lay  in  the  west.  The  apple-blossoms 
fed  the  winds  with  their  sweet  myrrh,  and  the  year  was 
scattering  the  beauty,  and  joy,  and  praise  of  June  on 
every  object. 

Grace  tried  to  shield  her  tear-stained  face  after  the  first 
start  of  surprise. 

"  Grace,"  exclaimed  Richard,  panting  up  to  her,  "  I 
heard  all  that  you  said  to  my  father  just  now." 

"You  did?— well?" 

She  said  it  softly  and  without  much  surprise,  for  the 
intense  emotion  of  the  last  hour  had  left  her  in  a  state  of 
nervous  prostration. 

"  Yes,  and  I  was  sorry  for  you,  Grace.  I  wish  that  I 
could  help  you." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  and  the  unbent  lines  of  the  lips 
told  of  sharp  struggle  and  suffering.  They  fashioned  a 
weak,  sorrowful  smile.  "  Thank  you,  Richard.  I  hoped 
I  could  do  something  for  my  poor  father,  but  I  couldn't." 

Richard  was  certainly  touched,  and  he  looked  on  that 
pale  face  with  the  old  greedy  longing  to  possess  it ;  and 
then  a  triumphant  thought  shot  across  him  that  this  hour 
of  sore  trial  was  just  the  one  to  best  promote  his  wishes, 
and  in  his  selfish  heart  the  man  was  glad  that  that  old 
title-deed  of  the  Palmer  homestead  had  come  to  light. 

"  Grace,"  said  Richard  Jarvys,  coming  to  the  point 
and  feeling  in  his  eagerness  tolerably  secure  of  his  ground, 
little  suspecting  the  true  quality  of  the  woman  with  whom 
he  had  to  do ;  "  Grace,  there  is  but  one  way  in  which 
I  can  serve  you,  and  I'm  ready  to  do  it  if  you'll  only 
give  me  the  liberty." 

The  blue  eyes  were  turned  full  of  intense  eagerness  to- 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  -    107 

wards  him.     "  How  can  you  serve  me — what  can  /  do, 
Eichard?" 

"  Only  give  me  the  right  to  say  the  Palmer  homestead 
shall  belong  to  you  and  yours  for  ever.  Oh,  Grace,"  he 
went  on  rapid  and  eager,  "only  say  that  you  will  give 
me  the  right  to  protect  you,  and  there  is  nothing  I  will 
not  do  for  your  happiness.  Your  father  and  mother  shall 
live  and  die  in  their  old  homestead ;  everything  shall  be 
adjusted ;  and  for  you,  Grace  Palmer,  you  shall  have,  as 
I  told  you  once  before,  the  truest  heart,  the  tenderest 
love  that  man  ever  gave  to  woman." 

The  roses  had  blown  wide  in  the  cheeks  of  Grace 
Palmer  while  Eichard  was  talking.  Then  they  died  out 
suddenly,  and  when  he  ceased  she  answered  with  a  sweet, 
settled  gravity,  which  was  absolute  to  any  one  who  under 
stood  : 

"  It  is  useless  to  ask  me  to  do  this,  for  I  could  only 
give  the  answer  that  I  did  before ;  and  you  would  not 
want  my  hand  or  my  heart  if  it  was  bought  in  this  way." 

"  Yes,  I  would  want  it  so,  Grace,"  eagerly  answered 
Eichard,  "  and  in  time  I  have  faith  that  you  would  learn 
to  love  me." 

The  bloom  touched  her  forehead;  but  Grace  felt  that 
she  owed  Eichard's  generosity  the  confession ;  and,  after 
a  brief  struggle,  the  poor  girl  stammered  out : 

"  Eichard,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  think  of  this  one 
moment.  There  are  reasons  which  render  it  so.  I  have 
given  my  promise  to  another." 

Grace's  timid  glance  grazed  Eichard's  face  as  she  made 
this  avowal ;  and  she  caught  the  expression  made  up  of 
anger,  mortification,  and  jealousy  which  darkened  it.  He 
was  silent  a  moment,  struggling  to  regain  the  mastery 


108  »  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

over  himself  and  his.  voice.  Then  he  commenced  vehe 
mently  : 

"It's  easy  enough  to  recall  a  promise,  Grace,  under 
some  circumstances ;  and  your  situation  certainly  exone 
rates  you  from  fulfilling  yours.  Remember,  it  is  only  as 
you  belong  to  me  that  I  can  serve  you;  and  I  plead 
not  for  myself  alone,  but  for  the  sake  of  your  father  and 
mother." 

A  look  of  ineffable  disgust  went  over  the  face  of  the 
listening  girl.  One  moment  it  was  dyed  with  crimson, 
and  then  grew  white  as  the  spray  which  fluted  the  sands, 
for  the  tide  was  now  coming  in. 

She  turned  upon  the  son,  as  a  half  hour  before  she  had 
turned-  upon  the  father,  those  large,  dauntless  eyes,  and 
it  was  no  wonder  that  the  face  of  Richard  Jarv}7s  quailed 
beneath  the  silvery  scorn  of  her  tones  when  they  came. 

"  Richard  Jarvys,  do  you  suppose  my  father  and  mother 
would  not  sooner  lay  me  in  the  grave  by  their  other 
children  than  have  me  commit  such  a  sin ;  do  you  sup 
pose  they  would  shelter  their  old  age  under  a  roof  bought 
at  such  a  price  ?  And  shame  upon  you,  that  you  would 
take  advantage  of  my  necessity  and  affections  to  urge 
me  to  the  commission  of  such  a  deed !  No,  Richard 
Jarvys,  you  and  your  father  may  do  the  worst  that  is 
in  your  hearts  to  do ;  you  may  succeed  in  driving  us 
from  the  home  which  you  know  is  rightfully  ours,  but 
you  can  never  drive  the  heart  of  Grace  Palmer  to  per 
jure  itself;  and  oh !  are  you  fallen  so  low,  that  you  could 
have  a  woman  who  was  base  enough  to  be  bought  in  such 
a  way !" 

The  calm,  resolute  eyes  did  not  shrink  or  falter.  They 
stood  looking  with  reproachful  scorn  on  Richard's  face 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  109 

after  the  lips  had  ceased  speaking.  An  angry  flush  rose 
slowly  over  his  cheeks,  until  they  touched  the  roots  of  his 
hair ;  he  felt  that  the  Deacon's  daughter  had  baffled  him 
again  ;  and  for  the  last  time  his  whole  expression  darkened 
into  sullen  rage,  and  his  eyes  flashed  fiercely,  when  at  last 
he  raised  them  to  Grace. 

"  You  have  scorned  my  love  twice,  Grace  Palmer,"  and 
the  girl  could  not  recognise  the  changed  tones ;  "  and  you 
will  never  have  a  chance  to  do  it  again.  I  would  have 
been  your  friend ;  but  the  woman  who  makes  an  enemy  of 
Eichard  Jarvys  sooner  or  later  has  reason  to  repent  it!" 
And  with  this  dastardly  threat  the  baffled,  disappointed 
man  went  on  his  way  to  brood  over  schemes  of  revenge  on 
the  Palmer  family. 

A  gnarled  old  apple-tree  grew  close  to  the  foot-path 
in  the  lane,  and  the  black,  knotted  branches  were  now 
thickly  covered  with  blossoms  like  clusters  of  pearls. 
Grace  Palmer  sat  down  under  the  tree,  and  all  the  un 
natural  strength  which  had  sustained  her  in  the  last  hour 
gave  way  in  one  long,  slow  sigh,  followed  by  a  great  sob. 
Then  the  storm  went  over  her.  The  future  looked  dark 
and  desolate  enough  to  the  young  girl,  sitting  under  that 
lonely  apple-tree. 

She  felt  keenly — the  delicate,  high-spirited  woman — the 
insults  to  which  the  coarseness  of  the  elder  Jarvys  had 
subjected  her;  and  the  threats  with  which  the  younger  had 
left  her  had  not  been  calculated  to  compose  her.  There 
was  no  earthly  help,  look  wherever  she  would.  Robert 
was  too  young  to  render  any  practical  advice  or  sympathy 
in  this  emergency.  Edward  Dudley,  suspecting  nothing  of 
all  this,  was  on  the  battle-field,  and  every  moment  of  her 
life  was  burdened  with  trembling  anxiety  for  hftn. 


110  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  0  God !  what  shall  I  do  ?  Have  pity  upon  me!"  mur 
mured  the  young  girl,  as  she  sat  on  a  low  stone  under  the 
apple-tree  full  of  blossoms,  where  the  birds  would  sing 
sweetly  the  next  dawn. 

And  with  that  prayer  there  came  a  slow  calm  over  the 
storm  in  the  soul  of  Grace  Palmer ;  and  if  there  trembled 
for  a  moment  over  her  heart  the  shadow  which  fell  upon 
the  royal  poet's,  when  the  cry  was  wrung  from  him,  "  Lord, 
how  long  shall  the  wicked — how  long  shall  the  wicked 
triumph  ?"  £he  question  and  the  shadow  were  both  swept 
away  in  the  great  river  of  light  which  poured  over  her 
soul  as  she  remembered  with  David :  "But  the  Lord  is  my 
defence ;  and  my  God  is  the  rock^of  my  refuge." 

Grace  Palmer  laid  down  at  the  feet  of  these  words  all 
doubts  and  all  fears.  Her  soul  rose  up  to  strength  and 
calm  as  she  thought  of  the  Love  which  would  not  leave 
nor  forsake  her,  whose  yearning  tenderness  was  greater 
than  her  mother's  when  she  sang  over  her  cradle  the  lulla 
bies  of  her  first-born,  and  which  was  wiser  than  all  earthly 
wisdom  and  strength. 

She  sat  very  still,  and  the  great  white  chalice  of  apple 
blossoms  waved  its  sweet  spices  about  her ;  the  soft  lights 
and  brown  shadows  of  the  June  evening  were  sparkling 
and  shifting  over  the  young  leaves  and  buds ;  the  deep 
blue  above,  the  tender  green  below,  all  the  beauty  and 
fragrance  of  the  summer  night  were  living  witnesses  of  her 
Father's  love  and  care. 

A  sweet,  solemn  light  shone  over  all  the  young  face ; 
a  sweet,  child-like  smile  sat  now  in  the  midst  of  it ;  and 
when  Grace  Palmer  rose  up  and  went  slowly  on  her  way 
home,  she  was  strong  in  the  courage  and  faith  which  God 
gives  to  those  who  love  Him. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  Ill 

The  days  wore  into  the  summer  heats,  and  nothing  hap 
pened  to  ruffle  the  still  current  of  outward  life  at  the  farm 
house.  Deacon  Palmer  had  not  yet  availed  himself  of  any 
legal  counsel  in  the  matter  which  lay  so  heavy  on  his 
heart.  The  court  did  not  hold  its  next  session  until  late  in 
the  ensuing  autumn,  and  the  Deacon  still  entertained  a 
hope  that  the  bill  of  sale,  of  whose  existence  he  entertained 
no  shadow  of  doubt,  might  still  be  discovered,  although  old 
Mrs.  Palmer's  strict  search  seemed  to  have  exhausted  every 
spot  where  there  was  the  remotest  possibility  of  conceal 
ment. 

Grace  Palmer's  greatest  pleasure  at  this  season  was  in 
her  letters,  which  the  stage  brought  regularly  twice  a  week. 
Blessed  draughts  to  the  heart  of  the  Deacon's  daughter  were 
those  letters,  with  their  strong  courage,  their  calm  faith,  and 
the  tenderness  which  wound  its  golden  thread  through 
every  line,  and  suffused  the  whole  letter  as  the  sunlight 
did  the  summer.  Grace  leaned  her  heart  up  against  them 
next  to  her  God. 

It  was  evident  the  writer  found  time,  in  the  midst  of  his 
new  military  life,  to  think  of  all  which  concerned  her ;  to 
interest  himself  in  her  daily  studies,  her  work,  her  needs, 
and  feelings.  Pictures  of  camp-life  the  letters  held,  set  in 
such  warm,  vivid  colors,  that,  sitting  in  the  quiet  of  her 
own  room,  Grace  seemed  to  be  mingling  in  the  stir  and  din 
of  the  camp  at  Cambridge,  sitting  under  the  shadows  of 
the  low  tents  sprinkled  over  the  grass,  or  springing  up  to 
the  cull  of  the  drum  in  the  summer  dawn. 

The  writer  always  wrote  brave  and  calm ;  not  as  one  who 
puts  the  truth  out  of  sight  as  too  painful  to  think  of,  but 
as  one  who  had  realized  and  sounded  it,  and  then  left 
it  with  God,  certain  that  there,  and  there  only,  it  must 


112  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

be  well !  Stray  flashes  of  humor,  a  keen  appreciation  of 
all  that  was  quaint  and  novel  in  his  present  life  and  the 
men  with  whom  he  was  brought  into  such  close  contact, 
always  stirred  the  round,  full  laugh  of  Grace  Palmer, 
which  it  was  a  joyful  thing  to  hear,  with  its  little  merry 
interludes  and  quick  catchings  of  her  breath,  for  her  life 
was  young ;  and  though  the  man  she  loved  better  than  life 
had  gone  to  offer  his  for  his  country,  and  though  it  was 
very  doubtful  whether  the  roof  over  her  head  would  shelter 
her  for  another  summer,  still  youth  and  health  would 
assert  themselves ;  she  could  not  be  always  grave. 

At  last  there  was  a  hiatus  in  Grace's  letters,  and  then 
came  the  tidings  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  rousing  the 
whole  country  to  new  hope  and  courage,  and  above  all,  to 
mightier  work  and  sacrifice. 

The  next  mail  brought  Grace  a  letter — the  bold,  broad 
hand  on  the  envelope  telling  that  the  writer  thereof  was 
not  numbered  with  the  dead. 

Two  weeks  later,  Edward  Dudley's  letter  read. 

"Yesterday,  Grace,  the  new  Commander-in-Chief  ap 
pointed  by  Congress  entered  Cambridge,  escorted  thither 
by  a  committee  of  the  Congress  of  Massachusetts.  What 
an  hour  was  that  in  which  he  rode  into  camp  I  •  Every  eye 
of  the  vast  multitude  assembled  to  witness  his  entree  was 
turned,  breathless,  towards  him;  then  what  wild  acclama 
tions  rent  the  air  as  he  rode  in,  the  head  of  the  army,  the 
hope  of  his  country,  the  stately  and  fair-haired  Virginian, 
George  Washington  !  I  had  a  fine  stand-point,  and  a  good 
view  of  him;  oh,  Grace!  dearly  beloved,  I  liked  this  man's 
face;  I  searched  it  eagerly.  It  is  a  calm,  strong,  good  one ; 
the  face  of  a  man  whom  I  could  follow  to  the  death  in  love 
and  faith ;  the  face  of  a  man  who  will,  under  all  circum- 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  113 

stances,  be  true  to  himself,  and  of  course  this  involves 
being  true  to  all  else  besides.  I  fancied — no,  I  felt  some 
what  of  all  which  was  going  on  in  his  soul,  as  the  calm 
grey  eyes  moved  over  the  motley  assemblage  of  troops  of 
which  he  has  been  appointed  leader.  There  was  a  look  of 
sublime  self-sacrifice  on  the  noble  face  which  lifted  it  into 
inspiration.  It  was  the  look  of  a  man  who  had  given  up 
all  for  his  country,  whom  no  motives  of  ambition  could 
sway,  no  love  of  power  could  move;  who  had  accepted 
the  great  honor  conferred  on  him  as  a  trust  direct  from 
God.  And  looking  on  that  calm,  grand  face,  it  seemed  to 
me  that  this  man  had  been  consecrated,  appointed  of  God, 
like  Joshua  of  old,  to  lead  our  armies  on  to  victory  ;  for 
of  the  final  result  of  this  war  I  never  have  had  a  doubt. 
I  do  not  disguise  from  myself  the  fearful  odds  against  us. 
I  know  that  my  country  is  still  in  the  early  dawn  of  that 
long  day  of  honor  and  praise  which  I  see  before  her.  I 
know  that  her  troops,  made  up  of  raw  militia,  are  to  meet 
an  army  before  whose  pride  and  whose  strength  all  the 
nations  of  the  world  have  trembled ;  but  I  know,  too,  that 
we  have  on  our  side  '  Him  who  giveth  the  victory.' 

"  I  do  not  disguise  from  myself — I  will  not  from  you, 
oh  dear  heart ! — that  it  must  be  a  long  battle  and  a  bloody 
one.  The  strongest  and  the  bravest  must  be  brought  low  ; 
but,  Grace,  there  is  joy  and  glory  in  the  death  one  dies  for 
his  native  land ;  and  oh,  when  I  look  out  from  the  night 
of  her  present  to  the  morning  of  her  future,  my  heart 
stands  still  for  its  rush  and  swell  of  joy.  Dear  land  of 
America !  When  she  shall  strike  off  the  awful  yoke  of 
her  oppressors,  and  stand  up  in  her  young  strength,  and 
each  one  of  her  Colonies  united  together  shall  lay  the 
foundations  of  her  broad,  deep  nationality,  and  she  shall 


114  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

take  her  fair  place  among  the  nations  of  the  earth;  her 
Constitution  founded  in  justice  and  righteousness,  her  shores 
a  refuge  for  the  oppressed  and  the  needy,-  herself  a  light  to 
those  who  sit  in  darkness,  the  joy  and  praise  of  the  earth ; 
— when  I  look  off  and  see  her  future  in  visions  like  these, 
my  heart  stands  still  and  blesses  God  that  for  her  it  is 
to  live  and  die — my  country  ! 

"  Do  not  let  those  blue  eyes  of  yours  grow  into  shadow 
reading  that  last  word.  Oh,  Grace,  sweeter  than  the  lilies, 
fairer  than  the  sunrise  of  the  summer  morning,  sing 
sweet  at  your  spinning-wheel !  Smile  with  the  joy  of  happy 
and  trusting  thoughts  over  your  churn  or  your  books. 

"  Be  sure  that  I  am  always  with  you;  that  I  carry  you 
so  close  and  so  precious,  that  no  smoke  of  the  battle-field, 
nor  sound  of  war-trumpet,  nor  thunder  of  cannon,  can 
for  one  moment  blur  my  vision  or  drown  my  thoughts  of 
you. 

"  Great  is  my  joy !  Such  a  country  to  live  or  to  die 
for ;  such  a  man  as  this  George  Washington  to  lead  me  to 
battle ;  and  oh,  such  a  woman  as  Grace  Palmer — mine, 
my  own  '  for  life  or  for  death  !'  Kejoice  in  my  joy,  oh  lit 
tle  heart  which  I  feel  throbbing  against  my  own  ;  there 
is  nothing  to  which  to  compare  you  in  flower  or  jewel.  In 
all  things  that  are  most  precious  and  beautiful,  in  the 
solemn  words  of  our  betrothal,  am  I  yours  for  life  or  for 
death. 

"EDWARD  DUDLEY." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUE  FATHERS.  115 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

THE  day  after  Grace  had  read  this  letter,  and  while  'the 
fragrance  of  its  tenderness  lingered  around  her  heart,  her 
mother  had  company.  Two  neighbors  happened  in  to 
pass  the  afternoon,  and  a  greater  antithesis  could  hardly  be 
conceived  than  that  which  the  persons  of  Mrs.  Peter  Street 
and  Mrs.  Thankful  Strong  presented. 

Mrs.  Street  was  small,  dark,  angular,  wiry,  with  a  little 
pair  of  keen  black  eyes,  which  snapped  and  sparkled,  and 
had  a  habit  of  diving  and  piercing  into  everything  as 
though  they  would  pluck  some  evil  out  of  every  object 
they  lighted  on.  She  had  a  small,  wintry  pair  of  lips, 
with  a  smile  which  came  and  went  habitually  as  though  it 
was  intended  to  qualify  the  snapping  of  the  eyes,  but 
didn't  succeed.  Mrs.  Peter  Street  was  one  of  that  large 
class  of  people  who  take  a  benevolent  interest  in  their 
neighbors'  concerns,  who  are  well  posted  respecting  all  the 
social  and  domestic  relations  of  those  with  whom  they  are 
brought  in  contact,  especially  if  there  be  anything  wrong  or 
unfortunate  in  these  relations ;  and  she  had  a  peculiar 
faculty,  developed  by  long  experience,  of  hunting  out  and 
holding  up  to  view  the  worst  possible  side  of  character, 
conduct,  and  motive ;  indeed,  her  imagination  was  never  at  a 
loss  to  supply  the  latter,  which  was  certain  to  be  the  worst 
possible. 

Mrs.  Thankful  Strong  was  of  a  different  type,  physically 
and  morally,  at  least ;  mentally,  there  was  little  to  choose 


116  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

between  the  two.  She  was  tall,  thin,  with  large  bones, 
light  skin,  light  hair,  and  light  eyes,  lymphatic  and  lacka 
daisical;  there  was  a  certain  harmony  of  physique  and 
expression  about  her ;  and  all  the  forces  of  her  life  were 
what  some  author  calls  "  centripetal ;"  for  her  whole  being 
revolved  in  a  very  small  orbit  of  selfishness. 

She  never  could  take  a  broad,  generous  view  of  any  sub 
ject;  she  never  could  see  any  matter — social,  political, 
religious — except  in  its  relations  to  her  own  comfort  or 
welfare,  and  her  absolute  unsuspiciousness  of  being  sway 
ed  by  any  such  motives  was  really  refreshing ;  she  would 
have  been  amazed  and  indignant  at  their  suggestion.  Mrs. 
Thankful  Strong  was  of  a  timid,  anxious,  depressed  tem 
perament.  But  the  two  ladies  shall  sit  for  their  own  por 
traits,  and  you,  reader,  may  recognise  the  pictures  if  you 
can.  They  are  not  uncommon  or  remarkable ! 

Both  ladies  had  brought  their  knitting.  Both  took  out 
their  knitting  sheaths,  after  receiving  a  cordial  reception 
from  Mrs.  Palmer,  which  reception  would  have  been  some 
what  qualified  if  she  had  overheard  the  conversation  which 
took  place  a  few  rods  from  the  house  where  the  two  ladies 
happened  to  overtake  each  other. 

Mrs.  Street  and  Mrs.  Strong  pinned  their  green  and  red 
knitting  sheaths  simultaneously  to  their  waists,  and  after  a 
brief  excursion  of  her  eyes  about  the  room,  which  seemed 
to  dive  into  every  corner  and  let  nothing  escape  them,  Mrs. 
Street,  who  was  the  more  loquacious  of  the  two  ladies, 
commenced  : 

"  I  told  Ebenezer  I  wouldn't  let  another  sun  set  without 
comin'  over  and  seein',  in  a  neighborly  way,  how  matters 
stood  with  you  and  the  Deacon.  We've  jist  heard  about 
the  trouble  you've  got  into." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  117 

"Yes,"  interpolated  Mrs.  Strong,  whose  voice  always 
had  a  little  despondent,  disheartened  tone,  as  though  she 
regarded  herself  as  the  most  wronged  and  afflicted  of  mor 
tals,  "  Abijah  says  it's  a  burnin'  shame  in  that  ere  Jarvys. 
To  think  of  you  and  the  Deacon's  bein'  turned  out  of 
house  and  home  jist  now,  as  you're  droppin'  into  your  old 
age!" 

Mrs.  Palmer  moved  uneasily  at  this  condolence  of  her 
neighbors.  She  was  ripping  a  coat  of  Eobert's,  which  she 
intended  transforming  into  one  for  Benjamin,  and  her  shears 
dropped  with  a  sharp  sound  on  the  kitchen  floor  at  this 
crisis ;  but  all  necessity  for  a  reply  was  superseded  by 
Grace's  sudden  entrance. 

She  came  in,  in  her  quiet,  graceful  way,  with  a  bit  of 
ruffling  in  her  hand.  There  was  a  light  and  peace  on  the 
sweet  face  which  flowed  from  deep  springs  in  her  soul  that 
neither  of  the  guests  could  fathom.  Both  surveyed  her 
intently  as  she  shook  hands  with  them  in  a  quiet,  neigh 
borly  sort  of  fashion,  and  then  took  her  seat. 

Somehow  the  bright  face  resting  in  a  light  which  flowed 
from  some  inward  spring  was  not  to  the  taste  of  Mrs. 
Street.  Then  the  quiet  grace  of  the  girl's  words  and  man 
ner  excited  that  petty  feeling  of  envy  and  antagonism 
which  ignorance  and  malice  are  apt  to  feel  for  real  supe 
riority  of  mind  and  character. 

"I'll  take  her  pride  down  a  bit,"  mentally  resolved 
Mrs.  Street ;  but  this  did  not  prevent  her  making  very 
cordial  and  minute  inquiries  after  Grace's  health,  which 
were  answered  in  a  frank,  ladylike  fashion,  although  it 
was  apparent  that  Grace's  heart  was  not  in  her  words. 

Mrs.  Street  returned  to  the  subject  which  had  been  inter 
rupted  as  soon  as  she  thought  the  way  sufficiently  opened. 


118  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  I'm  glad,  Grace,  to  see  you  ain't  any  more  down  in 
the  mouth  with  this  trouble  that's  come  on  you  all.  I 
declare  I  couldn't  sleep  a  wink  the  night  I  heard  of  it. 
To  think  of  Deacon  Palmer — such  a  good,  prayin'  man  as 
he  is — bein'  turned  out  of  the  house  and  home  that's  been 
his'n  and  his  father's  afore  him  for  nigh  upon  seventy 
year,  and  a  young  family  on  his  hands." 

"  That's  jist  what  I  said  to  Abijah,"  sighed  the  dolorous 
tones  of  Mrs.  Strong ;  and  the  blue  and  white  yarn  flowed 
in  a  variegated  stream  over  her  fingers. 

There  was  a  little  silence.  Mrs.  Palmer  nervously  tore 
down  a  seam  which  required  the  strength  of  both  hands 
to  disjoin ;  but  she  did  not  speak  a  word.  Grace  bent 
over  her  ruffling,  with  quick  flushes  deepening  and  ris 
ing  on  her  cheeks  until  they  touched  her  forehead.  The 
lips  sat  for  a  moment  in  a  bent,  disturbed  line ;  then  she 
looked  up — her  soft,  steady  eyes  bent  full  on  her  guests. 

"  "We  are  grateful  to  you  both,"  said  the  steadfast  voice, 
which  did  not  break  nor  ripple  from  beginning  to  close, 
"  for  any  sympathy  you  may  feel  for  us  in  our  troubles. 
But  it  is  one  of  which  we  prefer  not  to  speak  at  present ; 
and  you  will  therefore  excuse  both  mother  and  me  if  we 
ask  you  not  to  pursue  the  subject." 

Mi's.  Street  was,  as  she  afterwards  expressed  herself, 
"  thoroughly  taken  back."  She  looked  at  Grace,  who 
answered  her  with  a  bright,  clear,  steady  look,  and,  in  min 
gled  confusion  and  surprise,  managed  to  stammer  out : 

"  I  didn't  'spose  you'd  feel  bad  at  old  friends  expressing 
their  sorrow  for  your  trouble." 

"  We  appreciate  all  true  sympathy,  Mrs.  Street ;  only 
just  now  we  want  it  given  as  we  must  receive  it — 
silently." 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  119 

There  was,  of  course,  no  more  to  be  said  after  this. 
Mrs.  Street  devoted  herself  assiduously  to  her  knitting  for 
a  few  moments,  as  did  her  neighbor,  whose  perceptions 
were  in  a  somewhat  nascent  condition  ;  and  when  the  dark 
little  woman  opened  again,  it  was  on  a  topic  she  took  care 
should  be  very  remote  from  her  last  one. 

She  launched  out  into  her  neighbors'  affairs,  personal 
and  private,  with  a  relish  which  the  keen  snap  of  the  black 
eyes  bore  witness  to ;  and  her  tongue  and  her  knitting- 
needles  seemed  each  to  add  fresh  impetus  to  the  other. 
There  was  no  painful  fact  in  the  past  history  of  those  who 
came  within  the  range  of  her  remarks  that  Mrs.  Street  did 
not  drag  out  and  hold  up  in  its  worst  light ;  her  speech 
slurred  over  every  character  that  she  touched  ;  whereso 
ever  there  were  especial  motives  for  silence  and  charity, 
there  did  the  evil  imagination  of  Mrs.  Street  delight  to 
flower ;  where  there  was  any  room  for  doubt  respecting 
the  motives  which  induced  any  line  of  action,  she  was  sure 
to  supply  the  wrong  one ;  and  her  speech  was  interpolated 
by  nods  and  mysterious  shakes  of  her  head  calculated  to 
give  it  force  and  emphasis  in  the  eyes  of  her  listeners, 
although  she  took  care  to  interfuse  her  gossip  with  various 
sanctimonious  expressions  of  regret  and  dismay  at  the  evil 
of  mankind  in  general,  and  of  the  subject  of  her  discourse 
in  particular. 

Tick,  tick,  had  gone  an  hour;  click,  click,  had  gone 
Mrs.  Street's  needles ;  clack,  clack,  had  gone  her  tongue, 
when  at  last  she  paused  with  a  dim  consciousness  that  she 
had  had  the  ground  mostly  to  herself.  Grace  and  her 
mother  had  each  seemed  intent  on  her  work,  though  any 
keen  observer  might  have  read  various  signs  of  displeasure 
in  the  face  of  the  former.  The  flushes  went  and  came 


120  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

rapidly  in  her  face ;  sometimes  the  look  of  indignation  alter 
nated  with  one  of  amusement,  or  she  flashed  up  a  glance 
of  curiosity  at  the  speaker  ;  but  she  was  very  quiet,  and 
Mi*s.  Strong  only  intruded  an  occasional  "  Dear  me,  I  can't 
believe  my  own  ears !  What  is  the  world  a  comin'  to  ?" 
in  the  most  lugubrious  of  tones. 

"  Of  course,  I  don't  know  as  it's  true,"  Mrs.  Street  re 
sumed  again,  somewhat  qualifying  in  her  tones.  She  had 
been  indulging  in  various  uncharitable  surmises  respecting 
a  friend  of  Mrs.  Palmer's  and  herself,  which  surmises  she 
had  endeavored  to  fortify  with  proofs  that  would  have  shri 
velled  to  nothing  before  the  slightest  investigation  of  candor 
and  good  sense. 

"I  don't  believe  that  there  is  a  word  of  truth  in  the 
whole  matter,  Mrs.  Street,"  said  Grace,  to  whom  the  last 
remark  had  been  addressed ;  and  she  quietly  turned  down 
the  corner  of  her  ruffle.  "  It's  always  so  much  pleasanter 
to  believe  good  than  evil  of  people,  and  in  this  case  it's 
safer." 

This  reasoning  did  not  quite  gratify  Mrs.  Street. 

"  But  where  there's  so  much  smoke,  there's  sure  to  be 
some  fire.  Still,  as  you  say,  I  al'ays  like  to  think  the  best 
thing  of  my  neighbors  that  I  can  ;"  with  a  dim  feeling  that 
she  might  have  gone  too  far. 

Grace's  clear  eyes  were  raised  once  more  to  her  guests ; 
the  peach-bloom  sat  still  in  her  cheeks. 

"  I  think,  Mrs.  Street,"  said  the  steadfast  voice,  answering 
the  steadfast  eyes,  "  that  it  is  our  duty  not  only  to  think,  but 
to  speak  well  of  them ;  to  hide  any  wrong  which  they  may 
have  done  as  we  would  hide  our  own,  and  never  speak  of 
their  failings  if  we  can  avoid  it,  and  see  always  only  what 
is  pleasant  and  good  in  them.  I  think,  also,  that  is  what 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  121 

Christ  meant,  among  other  things,  when  He  said :  '  Do 
unto  others  as  ye  would  they  should  do  unto  you.' " 

The  silvery  voice  stopped.  Mrs.  Street's  face  showed 
that  the  rebuke  had  struck*  home ;  and  she  was  not  a  woman 
of  very  acute  sensibilities.  For  once  she  was  at  a  loss 
what  to  say,  and  when  she  spoke  again  her  words  did  not 
touch  the  last  subject. 

"  Grace,  may  I  ask  how  long  it  was  since  you  jined  the 
church  ?" 

"  About  two  years,  Mrs.  Street."  The  face  and  tones 
bright  and  quiet. 

"Wall.  I  must  say,  Grace,"  with  a  triumphant  sparkle 
of  her  eyes,  feeling  that  now  she  was  going  to  annihilate 
the  girl,  "  you're  well  fit  now  to  go  right  into  any  minister's 
family." 

Grace  looked  up  with  the  smallest  possible  smile,  un 
bending  the  red  line  of  her  lip;  she  was  perfectly  clear 
and  calm.  There  was  not  the  faintest  shade  of  embar 
rassment  about  her. 

"  I  hope  that  I  shall  be,  Mrs.  Street,  if  I  am  ever  for 
tunate  enough,  as  you  say,  to  enter  one." 

Mrs.  Street  was  effectually  silenced. 

Mrs.  Strong  now  found  that  her  turn  had  come. 

"  Isn't  it  a  dreadful  thing  to  think  on,  Miss  Palmer,  this 
horrid  war  that  we've  got  into  ?  I  don't  know  what's  to 
become  on  us  all.  There's  Abijah's  completely  thrown  out 
of  business." 

"I  know  it  falls  very  heavy  on  us  all,"  answered  the 
Deacon's  wife;  "but  you  know.  Miss  Strong,  it's  a  war 
undertaken  for  our  rights  and  liberties  ;  and  we  must  bear 
the  burden  as  we  can,  and  leave  the  rest  to  God." 

"  But  then  there's  my  husband's  business,  Miss  Palmer ; 

6 


122  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHEKS. 

if  it  hadn't  been  for  this  war,  he'd  a  made  a  very  com 
fortable  yearon't;  and  now  I  don't  see  what's  to  become  of 
us  and  the  children." 

"  I  sympathize  with  you,  Mws  Strong,"  answered  her 
hostess ;  "  but  don't  it  comfort  you  to  think  that  you're 
sufferin'  in  a  good  cause,  and  that  this  war  is  a  righteous 
war — for  you  know  all  that  we  hold  dear  or  precious  is 
at  stake?" 

"  I  can't  find  any 'comfort  in  that,"  answered  Mrs.  Strong, 
in  the  same  tone  of  doleful  obstinacy  ;  "  I'm  sure  I'd  rather 
that  the  Britishers  had  had  all  that  they  wanted,  than  that 
my  husband's  business  should  have  been  ruined." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Strong,  would  you  rather  your  country  should 
have  been  ruined,  your  children  have  been  slaves,  than 
suffered  the  evils  which  this  war  will  bring  upon  us?" 
inquired  Grace,  earnestly,  as  she  rolled  up  her  band  of 
muslin,  for  the  afternoon  was  growing  low. 

"  We  got  along  well  enough  afore  the  war ;  and  I'm 
sure  it  couldn't  be  much  worse  for  us  to  have  the  country 
go  to  ruin  and  the  children  slaves  than  to  have  Abijah's 
business  broken  up.  Just  think  of  that !" 

Mrs.  Strong  did  not  fathom  the  thought  which  flashed 
through  Grace's  mind  at  that  moment.  She  saw  the  large, 
intent  look  bent  on  her  with  a  peculiar  expression,  and 
the  lips  open ;  but  on  second  thought — a  thought  which 
certainly  involved  no  compliment  to  Mrs.  Strong — Grace 
closed  them  and  set  about  getting  tea,  while  Mrs.  Street, 
who  had  remained  quiet  for  an  unprecedented  length  of 
time,  went  deep  into  the  mysteries  of  a  new  recipe  for 
dyeing  blue,  which  she  had  obtained  from  Mrs.  Palmer. 

The  supper  passed  off  pleasantly  enough,  as  suppers 
usually  did  at  Deacon  Palmer's.  Even  Mrs.  Street's  eyes 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  123 

seemed  to  soften  somewhat  as  she  praised  the  light,  snowy 
biscuit,  and  the  blackberry-jelly  which  "  relished"  with  it 
so  nicely,  and  the  raised  cake,  in  which  she  averred  Mrs. 
Palmer  "  always  had  the  luck."  But  though  she  seemed 
unusually  quiet,  Mrs.  Street  was  gathering  up  her  forces 
for  a  last  attack  on  Grace  ;  for  it  did  require  some  courage 
to  meet  those  steadfast,  intent  eyes,  which  Mrs.  Street  felt 
looked  beyond  her  face  at  something  she  did  not  feel  quite 
assured  about.  With  the  last  cup  of  tea,  however,  her 
courage  rose,  and  with  a  little  spiteful  twinkle  of  her  black 
eyes,  she  turned  on  Grace,  saying : 

"  I've  heard  a  story  about  you,  Grace,  from  a  thousand 
different  quarters,  which  I've  denied  to  every  one,  GO'S  I 
didn't  believe  a  word  on't ;  it  ain't  like  you." 

"  Isn't  it  ?"  asked  the  girl,  quietly  breaking  off  a  corner 
of  her  cake.  "  Then  it  probably  isn't  true." 

"  No ;  but  folks  will  have  it  that  you're  engaged  to 
Parson  Willetts's  nephew,  for  all  you  ain't  seen  him  more 
than  half-a-dozen  times,  and  that  you  wrote  him  letters 
regularly,  all  last  winter,  though  you'd  hardly  had  time  to 
scrape  acquaintance  with  him.  I  only  mention  this  to  let 
you  know  how  folks  talk,  for  I  know  you're  too  right- 
minded  a  girl  to  do  such  things ;  only,  I'd  like  to  be  able 
to  say  that  I  had  your  word  for't  that  there  wasn't  a  letter 
of  it  true." 

The  rose-buds  had  hardly  deepened  in  Grace's  cheek ; 
the  face  was  not  turned  from  its  bright  quiet. 

"  You  can  give  people  a  better  answer  than  that,  if  you 
desire  to  oblige  me,  Mrs.  Street,"  she  said,  with  sweet 
gravity. 

"  Can  I  now  ?  "Wall,  I  shall  be  glad  to  serve  you,  Grace, 
if  you'll  only  tell  me  how,"  the  black  eyes  snapping  sharply. 


124  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"Will  you  please  to  tell  anybody  who  asks  you  about 
my  affairs  that,  as  they  are  none  of  your  business,  you 
have  not  meddled  with  them,  and  are  consequently  unable 
to  give  them  any  information." 

Soon  after  tea,  Mrs.  Palmer's  guests  found  that  imperative 
duties  summoned  them  home.  Something  of  their  feelings 
may  be  surmised  from  a  brief  conversation  which  they  had 
together  soon  after  they  had  left  the  front  gate. 

"I  haven't  enjoyed  myself  particularly,"  said  Mrs. 
Street  in  a  confidential  tone  to  her  neighbor.  "  That  ere 
Grace  is  a  dreadful  uppish  thing — dreadful !  I  al'ays  said 
her  mother'd  spile  her." 

"  And  to  think,"  added  Mrs.  Strong,  in  a  very  much 
injured  tone,  "  she  wanted  me  to  say  that  this  war  was  all 
right,  when  it's  ruined  Abijah's  business;  and  he  isn't  very 
forehanded  either." 

"  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  as  she  assisted  her  daughter 
in  gathering  up  the  tea-dishes,  "I  was  beat  at  the  way  you 
answered  Miss  Street,  this  afternoon." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  it  on  the  whole,  mother  ?" 
asked  Grace,  with  a  dainty  smile  just  showing  itself  around 
the  corners  of  her  lips. 

"Wall,  it  was.  cool,  child;  but  I  must  say  it  was  to  the 
pint." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  125 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  You  look  tired,  father  ?" 

"  Well,  I  feel  sort  o'  tuckered  out,  child,"  said  Deacon 
Palmer,  as  he  flung  himself  into  the  great  chair  his  daugh 
ter  placed  for  him,  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his 
forehead  with  his  coarse  handkerchief.  "  My  bones  are 
gettin'  too  old  for  the  brunt  of  harvest  work.  I  should 
have  laughed  once  at  what  wilts  me  up  in  an  hour  or  two 
now.  Your  father's  gettin'  to  be  an  old  man,  Grace." 

"  Well,  all  things  have  to  grow  old  to  get  ripe,"  answer 
ed  Grace,  looking  up  from  the  stratum  of  golden  butter, 
whose  angles  she  was  rounding  with  her  knife,  to  the 
sun-browned  face,  with  a  bright  smile  which  was  touched 
with  some  deeper  feeling.  "  Are  you  getting  on  well, 
father?" 

"  Fust  rate ;  if  this  weather  holds  on  we  shall  go  through 
with  the  brunt  of  the  work  this  week ;  and  the  Lord  never 
blessed  a  summer  with  finer  crops  than  He  has  this  one 
o'  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy -five." 

"Well,  good  crops  and  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  are 
something  to  thank  Him  for,"  returning  from  the  pantry 
with  a  pitcher  of  milk  in  one  hand,  and  an  apple-pie  with 
daintily  ruffled  edges  in  the  other.  "  Come,  father,  sit  up 
to  the  table  now  and  take  your  rest  and  your  lunch  toge 
ther.  Here's  something  you'll  like,  too  ;  it's  a  green  apple- 
pie.  I  made  it  on  purpose  for  your  lunch ;  it's  the  first 


126  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR   FATHERS. 

we've  had  this  season,  you  know ;"  and  she  slipped  her 
knife  through  the  green  lake  of  sweetened  fruit. 

"  Where's  your  mother,  Grace  ?"  asked  the  farmer,  as  he 
seated  himself  at  the  table. 

"  She's  gone  over  to  the  tavern  to  pass  the  day.  I  just 
prevailed  upon  her  to  start  off.  It  always  does  her  good 
to  see  Mrs.  Trueman,  and  she  needs  to  be  kept  up  all  she 
can.  I've  sent  for  Lucy  to  come  and  pass  the  day  with 
me ;"  setting  herself  down  before  a  yellow  bowl  heaped 
with  ripe  currants,  the  long  stems  like  green  threads  strung 
with  pendants  of  coral,  and  it  was  evident  that  Grace's 
artistic  sense  was  pleased  with  their  beauty  by  the  dain 
ty  way  in  which  her  small  fingers  touched  the  glowing 
fruit. 

It  was  in  the  dead  heats  of  the  harvest  now.  The  win 
dows  were  all  open  ;  the  summer  winds  had  gone  to  sleep, 
for  it  was  eleven  o'clock  of  the  July  day,  and  the  ripe 
sunlight  was  only  feebly  contested  in  its  way  to  the  kitchen 
by  the  rose-brier  which  tapestried  the  windows. 

"  It's  a  wiltin'  day  out  in  the  fields,"  said  the  Deacon,  as 
he  helped  himself  to  a  third  slice  of  the  pie. 

"  Yes ,  we  can  hardly  keep  comfortable  in  the  house. 
How  does  that  pie  relish,  father?" 

"  It  touches  the  spot.  You  beat  your  mother,  Grace,  at 
apple-pies ;  and  that's  the  highest  compliment  that  I  know 
how  to  pay  you.  Somebody  else  '11  appreciate  them  as 
much  as  I  do  one  of  these  days." 

Grace  looked  up  in  bright,  swift  recognition  of  her 
father's  meaning;  then  some  other  thought  touched  her 
smile,  for  it  faded  into  a  sudden  gravity  that  was  mixed 
with  pain.  She  bent  her  head  lower  over  the  currants. 

Perhaps  her  father  saw  the  sudden  gravity  which  put 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  127 

out  the  smile,  and  comprehended  its  meaning.  At  any 
rate,  he  finished  his  meal  in  silence,  which  seemed  to 
express  a  sympathy  which  he  could  not  put  in  words. 
Then  he  pushed  his  chair  away,  and  watched  the  girl,  as 
she  skilfully  slipped  the  red  globes  from  their  stems;  and 
there  were  many  feelings  at  work  in  the  soul  of  Deacon 
Palmer.  One  of  these,  at  last,  found  expression  in  a  way 
very  unusual  with  the  farmer.  He  stretched  his  great 
hand  towards  the  pretty  picture  seated  there  in  the  golden 
framing  of  July  sunshine,  and  stroked  the  smooth  brown 
hair  tenderly  as  though  it  had  been  a  baby's. 

"  My  little  daughter,"  said  the  farmer,  in  a  soft,  caressing 
tone. 

Grace  turned  quickly,  and  looked  up  at  her  father  with 
a  mingling  of  brightness  and  softness  in  her  eyes.  She 
leaned  her  cheek  down  on  his  knee  in  mute  acknowledg 
ment  of  all  which  his  words  covered.  The  farmer  stroked 
the  soft  peach-bloom  a  moment,  and  this  time  the  words  as 
well  as  the  tone  touched  closer  to  his  feelings. 

"  My  poor  little  daughter." 

Grace  looked  up  now.  There  was  a  little  struggle  in 
her  face ;  but  the  brightness  vanquished  the  pain,  and 
her  voice  endorsed  her  words,  for  it  came  bright  and 
cheerful — 

"  No,  father ;  I'm  not  poor.     I'm  rich — very  rich." 

He  understood  her. 

"  So  you  are,  my  child — with  all  the  best  riches  of  hea 
ven  or  earth.  You  know  what  Paul  says :  '  All  things  are 
yours.'  " 

"  I  know.  Those  things  Paul  meant  are  mine,  father." 
Her  face  shone  now  as  she  lifted  it  to  him  with  peace  and 
joy,  which  were  fed  with  springs  beyond  this  world. 


128  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

It  told  its  own  story  of  love,  and  faith,  and  submis 
sion. 

The  Deacon's  heart  swelled  in  a  fervent  thanksgiving. 
It  was  a  silent  one,  however,  and  when  the  words  came, 
they  were  only  : 

"  Daughter,  you  have  been  a  great  comfort  to  us  this 
summer." 

She  thanked  him  with  her  eyes,  her  cheek  still  leaning 
against  his  knee ;  and  there  was  a  brief  silence.  Grace 
spoke  first,  with  a  little  doubt  and  hesitancy,  for  she  had 
put  away  many  feelings  too  solemn  and  tender  for  words 
to  reach  now. 

"  Father,  I've  been  wondering  a  good  deal  of  late " 

She  stopped  here. 

"  About  what,  Grace  ?" 

"  Why,  that  you  didn't  consult  some  lawyer,  or  do  some 
thing  about  this  matter ;  I'm  afraid  that  man  will  get  the 
start  of  you." 

"  I've  considered  it  a  good  deal  myself,  of  late,"  answer 
ed  the  Deacon,  with  a  reflective  voice  and  face  ;  "  but  I've 
had  a  kind  of  feeling  that  something  would  happen,  or 
somebody  come  along  to  help  me,  sent  of  the  Lord.  Not 
that  I  meant  to  neglect  the  means,  child,  but  the  feelin's 
been  so  strong  it's  sort  o'  held  me  back." 

"  When  will  it  come  before  the  court  ?" 

"The  next  session  opens  in  November.  I  shan't  put 
the  matter  off  any  longer.  I  mean  to  place  it  in  Lawyer 
Fuller's  hands  this  week." 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  very  peremptory  summons 
of  the  old  brass  knocker.  Grace  sprang  up,  gave  her  hair 
a  little  impromptu  smoothing,  and  hurried  to  the  door. 
She  encountered  there  a  face  which  she  did  not  remember 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  129 

to  have  ever  seen  before  ;  it  was  that  of  a  man  evidently  a 
little  past  his  thirties ;  a  face  with  agreeable  outlines  and  a 
manly,  straightforward,  intelligent  expression,  which  at 
once  put  you  in  a  pleasant  humor  with  it.  The  eyes  had 
a  shrewd,  penetrating  look,  which  indicated  they  were 
accustomed  to  study  whatever  came  in  their  way  ;  and  yet 
it  was  a  kindly  sort  of  study — nothing  sharp  or  cynical 
about  it. 

"  Good  morning,  ma'am,"  said  the  stranger,  lifting  his 
hat,  and  the  manner  and  the  voice  were  their  own  witness 
of  the  speakers  cultivation,  both  mental  and  social.  "  Is 
Deacon  Palmer  at  home  ?" 

The  voice  had  reached  the  Deacon  in  the  kitchen,  for 
the  doors  were  all  open,  and  the  guest  had  hardly  reached 
the  sitting-room  before  the  host  did. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  sir  ?"  and  the  stranger  pressed 
forward  eagerly  and  seized  the  Deacon's  hand. 

"  I  can't  say  I  do,  my  friend,"  searching  his  guest's  face 
curiously. 

"  Well,  if  you've  forgotten  my  face,  you  haven't  forgot 
ten  the  name  of  John  Deming." 

"  John  Deming  I"  cried  the  Deacon,  with  a  start ;  "  I 
reckon  not.  But  it  ain't  possible !"  and  he  surveyed  the 
stranger  with  a  mixture  of  doubt  and  belief. 

"  Yes,  it  is  possible,  Deacon  Palmer ;  I  am  John  Dem 
ing,  and  no  other." 

Grace  had  not  seen  her  father  look  so  glad  for  many  a 
cay.  He  shook  the  stranger's  hand  until  she  was  certain 
it  must  have  ached  up  to  his  shoulder  ;  he  commented  and 
complimented  him  on  his  looks;  he  asked  him  a  dozen 
questions  at  once,  and  with  his  habitual  hospitality,  hurried 
Grace  off  to  the  kitchen  to  prepare  a  collation  for  the 

6* 


130  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

stranger,  though  the  latter  interposed  a  strong  objection  to 
this,  which  the  Deacon  overruled. 

"  I'm  sorry  Miss  Palmer  happens  to  be  out,  John  ;  it  '11 
do  her  eyes  good  to  see  you.  We  was  talkin'  about  you 
only  the  other  day." 

"  It's  good  to  find  one  hasn't  been  forgotten  after  years 
of  absence  and  silence.  Ah,  Deacon,  you've  got  the  old 
voice  and  the  old  smile ;  but  I  must  tell  you  the  truth, 
time  hasn't  gone  lightly  over  you." 

"That's  a  fact,"  answered  the  Deacon,  a  little  sadly; 
"  we've  got  to  stand  aside,  as  I  tell  mother,  and  see  the 
younger  ones  take  our  places ;  but  when  the  fruit  gets  into 
autumn  it's  time  for  it  to  fall,  you  know." 

"  That's  all  right  enough  for  fruit,  but  I  hope  your  time 
for  falling  is  a  long  way  off  yet,  Deacon  Palmer." 

"  Thank  you,  John  ;  we  must  leave  that  to  the  Lord,  you 
know.  How  have  the  years  gone  with  you  ?  It's  fourteen 
on  'em  since  you  went  out  of  the  front  door  there." 

"  I  know  it,  Deacon ;  and  putting  that  morning  and  this 
together,  I  couldn't  make  it  seem  that  there  lay  more  than 
a  week  betwixt  them  as  I  came  up  to  the  front  door  and 
everything  wore  just  the  old  look.  It  was  like  the  wel 
come  of  an  old  friend,"  and  the  speaker  glanced  with  a 
kind  of  tender  recognition  about  the  room. 

"  Well,  what  has  the  world  done  to  you,  John,  in  these 
years  that  have  changed  you  from  a  boy  to  a  man  ?" 
There  was  more  than  curiosity  in  the  question  ;  an  interest 
almost  fatherly  was  in  the  Deacon's  eyes  as  he  still  kept 
them  on  the  young  man. 

"  It's  treated  me  pretty  well  on  the  whole.  You  know  I 
went  to  South  America  and  stayed  there  until  my  uncle 
died.  It  was  his  wish  that  I  should  take  his  place  in  the 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  131 

firm,  and  he  put  me  in  the  counting-room  at  once,  and  tried 
to  make  a  merchant  of  me." 

"  And  didn't  succeed — eh,  John  ?" 

"  He  might  if  he  had  lived,  for  he  was  so  fond  of  me 
that  it  would  have  gone  hard  not  to  oblige  him ;  but  he 
died  suddenly,  and  left  his  affairs  in  great  confusion.  Two 
of  his  partners  were  Spaniards — one  of  them  was  a  scoun 
drel.  I  should  never  have  got  a  dollar  of  my  uncle's  for 
tune,  though  it  was  mine  by  his  will  and  my  being  nearest 
of  kin,  if  I  had  not  been  on  the  spot.  As  it  was,  I  saved 
only  a  few  thousands  with  the  aid  of  two  shrewd  lawyers ; 
but  looking  into  his  affairs  at  that  time  gave  me  a  taste  for 
my  profession." 

"  Your  profession,  John — what's  that  ?" 

"  I  sailed  from  South  America  to  England,  and  studied 
law  in  London." 

"  No  !"  looking  at  his  guest  in  amazement,  which,  for  the 
moment,  did  not  allow  of  more  words. 

"  I  thought  you  knew  all  this  from  the  letter  to  which 
you  never  replied." 

"  Because  I  never  received  it.  It  don't  seem  possible, 
John,"  in  a  musing  tone,  looking  at  his  guest. 

"  No  wonder  you  say  that,  Deacon,  remembering  the  lit 
tle  ragged,  friendless  savage  that  came  to  your  door  eight 
een  years  ago.  Oh,  my  friend,  all  that  I  am — all  that  I 
ever  shall  be,  I  owe  to  you  and  Mrs.  Palmer."  The  speaker 
broke  off  abruptly — his  eyes  were  moist — he  leaned  over 
and  shook  the  hard  hand  of  the  Deacon. 

"  Mother  al'ays  said  it  was  in  you,  John ;  from  the  first 
she  declared  you  was  bound  to  make  your  mark  in  the 
world !" 

"  Bless  her  good  heart.    You've  got  a  handsome  daugh- 


132  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

ter  there,  Deacon,  with  the  look  of  her  mother  in  her 
eyes." 

"  Yes,  sir.  Grace  is  her  mother's  child.  Don't  you 
remember  how  you  used  to  trot  her  on  your  knee  ?" 

"  Don't  I!  The  old  place  is  full  of  pictures  and  memo 
ries  that  my  heart  has  carried  all  over  the  world." 

A  shadow  fell  upon  the  old  man's  face,  which  had  been 
full  of  animation,  for  the  last  remark  of  his  guest  touched 
the  great  fear  which  haunted  all  the  Deacon's  sleeping  and 
•waking  hours. 

He  shook  his  head  mournfully.  "  Ah,  John,  there's  little 
comfort  to  me  in  goin'  round  the  old  place  now,  though 
every  foot  of  the  soil's  as  dear  to  me  as  my  right  hand. 
I'm  like  to  lose  it." 

"  Like  to  lose  the  old  place  ?"  repeated  Mr.  Deming,  in  a 
voice  taken  full  possession  of  by  amazement. 

"  Yes,  John.  It's  been  a  terrible  blow  to  my  old  age. 
You  remember  Ralph  Jarvys,  the  ship-owner  ?" 

"  Perfectly ;  his  son  Richard  and  I  were  schoolmates,  you 
know,  and  had  a  sharp  pull  together  for  the  prizes." 

"Well,  he's  come  across  an  old  title-deed  of  the  land 
which  belonged  to  his  grandfather,  and  as  the  bill  of  sale 
can't  be  produced,  nor  the  record  either,  it's  goin'  to  give 
me  great  trouble." 

"  What  counsel  have  you  employed  ?" 

"  Nobody  yet.  I've  put  the  thing  off,  hopin'  for  some 
farther  light,  but  it  won't  do  to  wait  any  longer." 

"  Deacon  Palmer,  perhaps  here's  a  chance  for  me  to 
repay  somewhat  of  the  great  debt  I  owe  you.  I've  practised 
at  the  bar  three  years  in  Philadelphia,  with  better  success 
than  I  dared  to  hope ;  but  my  health  broke  down  under  it, 
and  I  found  I  must  have  a  vacation.  So  I  concluded  to 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  133 

set  off  for  the  sea  shore  and  see  you  at  the  same  time. 
Now,  if  you'll  put  this  thing  into  my  hands,  I'll  promise  to 
manage  it  for  you  as  well  as  anybody  you  will  be  likely  to 
find." 

Strong  emotion  kept  the  farmer  from  speaking  for  a  few 
moments.  Then  he  looked  up. 

"  John,"  he  said,  simply,  "  it  must  have  been  you  that  I 
have  been  waiting  for  all  this  time,  and  I  didn't  know 
it.  The  Lord  bless  and  reward  you  for  what  you  have 
said." 

Just  then  Grace  entered  and  invited  Mr.  Deming  out  to 
dinner,  and  the  conversation  was  terminated  by  his  agree 
ing  to  come  round  that  evening,  when  the  farmer  would 
put  him  in  possession  of  all  the  facts  relating  to  the  sale  of 
the  Palmer  lands. 

And  once  seated  at  the  table,  and  after  a  brief  chat 
betwixt  the  young  lawyer  and  his  hostess,  who  did  the 
honors  so  gracefully,  the  conversation  turned  on  a  topic 
which  at  that  time  lay  closest  to  the  heart  of  every  true 
man  and  woman  throughout  the  land. 

"  You've  got  a  governor  of  the  true  metal,  Deacon,  here 
in  Connecticut,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  all  the 
other  Colonies !" 

"  Yes,  sir.  Governor  Trumbull,  honor  to  his  name ! 
was  ahead  of  all  the  others,  and  answered  his  country's  call 
nobly.  It'll  be  remembered  of  him  long  after  his  grey 
head  has  laid  under  the  grass." 

"  I  hope  so.  As  for  our  army  'round  Boston,  I  expect 
that  every  mail  will  bring  us  tidings  of  bloody  work  there. 
It  don't  seem  as  though  his  Majesty's  troops  would  remain 
much  longer  shut  up  in  such  a  plight ;  but  the  warm  recep 
tion  which  they  met  at  Bunker's  Hill  has  made  them  a  lit- 


134 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


tie  careful  about  venturing  out.     I  tell  you,  sir,  that  was  a 
glorious  thing  for  America !" 

"  Yes,  sir — yes,  sir,"  responded  the  Deacon,  with  a  sur 
reptitious  glance  at  the  face  of  his  daughter. 

"  It  seems  to  me  little  less  than  a  miracle,"  continued  the 
young  lawyer,  pausing  in  the  midst  of  dismembering  the 
leg  of  a  chicken,  "  that  they  haven't  sallied  out  and 
attacked  our  lines  during  the  last  fortnight.  What  a  glo 
rious  chance  they  had  for  it  before  that  powder  from  the 
Jerseys  came  to  hand.  If  General  Gage  had  only  known 
his  advantage,  he  might  have  sallied  out  and  put  the  whole 
army  to  rout ;  for  what  could  the  bravest  men  do  with  no 
powder  to  fall  back  upon  except  what  was  in  their  car 
tridge-boxes  !" 

"  God  must  have  blinded  the  hearts  of  our  enemies  as  he 
did  the  Philistines  in  the  days  of  old,"  subjoined  the  Dea 
con. 

"  I  believe  so,  and  that  he  must  have  raised  us  up  a 
deliverer  for  our  oppressed  nation  in  this  George  Washing 
ton,"  added  the  lawyer. 

"  Congress  and  the  country  seem  to  have  great  confidence 
in  him,"  continued  the  Deacon.  "  For  my  own  part,  I 
must  say  all  his  measures  seem  to  show,  so  far,  a  remarka 
ble  degree  of  sagacity  and  prudence.  But  it  requires  all 
these  to  be  at  the  helm  now,  John." 

The  lawyer  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork  in  his  earnest 
ness. 

"  Yes,  and  if  there  ever  was  a  man  who  devoted  himself 
to  this  cause  of  our  Colonies,  heart  and  soul,  for  love  of  his 
country,  that  man  is  George  Washington  !  I  know  him 
well;  his  Secretary,  Mr.  Joseph  Eeed,  and  I  practised 
together  in  Philadelphia ;  and  I've  often  taken  dinner  with 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  135 

the  General  at  his  friend's  house  when  he  was  in  Philadel 
phia  to  attend  the  sessions  of  the  Continental  Congress." 

"  Wall,  now,"  subjoined  the  Deacon,  settling  himself 
back  in  his  chair,  "  I  am  glad  to  get  at  a  man  who  has 
had  an  opportunity  of  talkiri'  face  to  face  with  Washing 
ton.  If  that  ere  was  known  in  this  neighborhood,  you'd 
be  quite  a  lion  for  miles  around." 

"  That  is,  I  should  serve  for  a  time  as  a  good  reflector 
of  another's  light !  Well,  sir,  as  I  said,  I've  sat  more  than 
once  into  the  midnight  with  General  Washington  and  Secre 
tary  Eeed,  talking  over  the  course  which  the  English  Par 
liament  has  pursued  towards  her  British  American  Colo 
nies  from  the  hour  that  their  first  emigrants  cast  anchor  at 
Jamestown  unto  this  one  !  Why,  it's  enough  to  make  a 
man's  blood  boil  in  his  veins  when  he  thinks  of  it !" 

"  That's  a  fact,  John.  There  never  sat  a  Stuart  on  the 
throne  of  England  that  ever  thought  of  the  country  in  any 
other  light  than  that  of  a  tobacco  growin'  region  out  of 
which  he  hoped,  by  a  system  of  monopoly,  to  reap  large 
profits  for  himself.  Little  love  or  care  our  poor  Colonies 
got  from  king  or  parliament  until  they  found  we  might  be 
of  some  service  to  them." 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  lawyer,  now  thoroughly  launched 
on  the  tide  of  his  subject,  "  and  the  first  interest  the  minis 
try  indicated  in  our  affairs  was  to  claim  a  monopoly  of  our 
commerce ;  and  so  they've  gone  on  down  the  last  two  cen 
turies  from  one  high-handed  act  to  another,  until  they 
crowned  all  at  last  by  their  Stamp  Act  and  Port  Bills, 
denying  us  the  right  of  a  trial  by  jury  and  intending  to 
quarter  a  standing  army  upon  us.  We  should  be  less  than 
men — we  should  be  slaves  and  cowards,  to  stand  this !" 

"  You've  got  the  true  grit  in  you,  John,"  said  the  Dea- 


136  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

con,  rubbing  his  hands  together,  which  was  a  habit  that 
lie  had  when  he  was  pleased  or  excited. 

"  I  intend  to  show  that  I  have,  with  some  better  weapons 
than  my  tongue,  when  I  get  strong  enough  for  hard  ser 
vice." 

"  I'm  afraid  the  close  of  this  year  won't  see  the  thing 
settled,"  continued  the  Deacon,  "  though  our  troops  haven't 
enlisted  for  any  longer  time.  I  don't  know,  for  my  part, 
how  or  where  it's  to  end." 

'"  Only  in  one  way,  my  dear  sir.  It's  got  to  come  to  that. 
In  a  Declaration  of  Independence,  in  a  total  and  eternal 
separation  betwixt  the  mother  country  and  her  colonies,  is 
our  only  safeguard  and  security." 

"That's  just  what  Edward  says,"  interposed  Grace 
Palmer  at  this  point,  for  she  had  listened  with  breathless 
eagerness  to  every  word  of  the  young  lawyer's. 

"  Does  Ae,  daughter  ?"  asked  the  Deacon,  with  a  little 
smile  on  the  corners  of  his  lips,  which  first  made  Grace 
conscious  of  the  audible  expression  of  her  thoughts ;  and 
the  buds  blossomed  out  wide  in  her  cheeks  as  she  met  the 
lawyer's  half-amused,  half-perplexed  glance. 

"Well,  I  suspect  that  he's  more  than  half  right.  It's 
got  to  be  the  talk  now,  on  all  hands,  that  that's  the  only 
way  to  settle  the  matter." 

Lawyer  Deming  returned  to  his  chicken  and  to  a  gene 
ral  discussion  of  army  movements  and  army  measures 
with  the  Deacon,  such  as  whether  action  would  be  likely 
to  be  confined  to  the  sea -board ;  whether,  if  an  armed 
force  were  sent  into  Canada  under  Schuyler,  that  province 
could  be  easily  subjugated;  and  what  measures  would  be 
taken  to  prevent  the  sudden  descent  of  armed  vessels  on 
the  coast  of  New  England,  where  the  defenceless  inhabi- 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  137 

tants  were  plundered  or  subjected  to  all  sorts  of  outrages 
in  order  that  the  British  soldiery  might  obtain  supplies  for 
the  forces  besieged  at  Boston. 

And  so  the  day  and  the  talk  sloped  into  the  afternoon 
before  the  Deacon  or  his  guest  discovered  it.  Both  were 
then  obliged  to  hurry  away,  the  lawyer  promising  to  re 
turn  that  evening ;  and  having  learned  that  the  old  Mill 
Tavern  was  still  under  the  supervision  of  Mrs.  Trueman, 
whom  he  remembered,  he  formed  a  resolution  to  take  up 
his  abode  there  during  his  stay  in  the  neighborhood.  But 
he  turned  back  suddenly  after  he  had  shaken  hands  with 
the  Deacon  at  the  door,  asking : 

"  Oh,  who  is  Edward  ?" 

"I  'spose  he'll  be  my  son-in-law  some  day,  if  he  don't 
find  a  soldier's  grave  aforehand.  He's  a  nephew  of  Parson 
"Willetts,  and  he's  in  the  camp  at  Cambridge  now  under 
Putnam." 

"  No  prospect  for  me  in  that  quarter,  then,"  subjoined 
the  stranger,  with  a  pleasant  smile  which  the  Deacon  dupli 
cated.  "Pity  you  haven't  another  handsome  daughter, 
my  old  friend." 

"  We  had  several,  you  know,  John,"  answered  the  Dea 
con — a  little  seriousness,  which  was  not  a  shadow,  in  his 
tones. 

The  lawyer  had  reached  the  front  gate  by  the  grass-path, 
which  gave  no  sound  of  his  footsteps ;  and  some  absorb 
ing  thoughts  which  linked  the  past  and  the  present  were 
suddenly  put  to  flight  by  his  stumbling  upon  a  white 
lawn  dress,  in  the  skirt  of  which  his  unlucky  boot  made  a 
small  hiatus  before  he  was  conscious  of  it. 

"  Oh,  dear,  now  !"  said  the  wearer,  in  a  tone  of  extremest 
vexation.  "  If  that  isn't  the  greatest  shame  !" 


138  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss.  I  wish  I  knew  some 
better  way  to  atone  for  my  unfortunate  misstep." 

Lucy  Trueman — for  it  was  she — looked  up  in  startled 
amazement  at  the  voice.  She  had  been  so  occupied  with 
the  covered  China  bowl  in  her  hands  that  she  had  not 
observed  the  stranger,  and  supposed  that  she  had  caught 
her  dress  in  some  protruding  nail  at  the  gate.  The  pretty 
face  grew  crimson  betwixt  surprise  and  mortification  ;  but 
high  colors  were  becoming  to  Lucy  Trucman's  style, 
which  was  of  the  plump  and  ruddy  kind.  She  certainly 
did  look  bewitching  as  she  stammered  : 

"I  didn't  know — it's  no  matter — I  thought  it  was  the 
gate !" 

"  I  only  wish  it  had  been  !"  said  the  courteous  stranger, 
with  an  admiring  glance  at  the  blushing  face  as  he  pass 
ed  on. 

"  Why,  Lucy,  is  that  you  at  last !"  was  Grace's  salu 
tation,  as  her  friend  walked  into  the  kitchen.  "  I'd  quite 
given  up  expecting  you." 

"  Well,  I  guess  it  would  have  been  better  if  I  hadn't 
come  at  all ;  there  now,  Grace !"  exclaimed  Lucy,  as  she 
set  down  the  bowl  on  the  table  with  an  expression  which 
was  pendulous  betwixt  resignation  and  provocation. 

"  Why,  what  has  happened,  Lucy  ?  Take  your  bonnet 
right  off  and  tell  me." 

As  Lucy  untied  the  ribbons  of  her  bonnet  the  shadow 
vanished  from  her  face,  for  her  nature  was  quite  too 
elastic  to  be  jarred  for  more  than  a  moment  at  any  unto 
ward  incident. 

"  Grace,  who  was  that  young  gentleman  I  met  at  the 
gate  just  now?" 

"Did  you  see  him?     I'm  so  glad,  Lucy!      I've  been 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  139 

wishing  you  were  only  here  to  dinner.  The  gentleman 
is  a  Mr.  John  Deming,  a  young  lawyer  from  Philadelphia, 
an  acquaintance  of  General  Washington  and  Secretary 
Reed.  He's  dined  with  them  often  1" 

"Dear  me,  Grace!"  interpolated  Lucy,  who  had  drunk 
in  this  information  with  eyes  growing  rounder  and  blacker 
all  the  time. 

"  Yes ;  and  would  you  believe  it,  that  gentleman,  six 
teen  years  ago,  came  to  my  father's  door  a  little  home 
less,  ragged  boy.  He  had  run  away  from  some  place 
near  Springfield ;  his  father  and  mother  were  dead,  and 
he  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  hard,  cruel  man,  who 
worked  him  beyond  his  strength,  and  the  boy  was  never 
tough.  He  stopped  here  to  get  something  to  eat,  and 
mother  was  at  once  interested  in  him ;  and  his  replies  to 
her  questions  so  enlisted  the  sympathies  of  her  motherly 
heart  that  she  kept  him  until  father  came  home.  Then 
the  boy  told  his  whole  sad  story  in  such  a  way  that 
they  hadn't  a  doubt  of  its  truth,  and  father  concluded  to 
keep  him  and  let  him  work  on  the  farm,  and  he  was 
overjoyed  at  the  proposition.  He  remained  with  us  for 
four  years.  Papa  sent  him  to  school,  and,  indeed,  made  as 
much  of  him  as  though  John  Deming  were  his  son,  and 
I  suppose  loved  him  as  mother  did — almost  as  well. 

"  Then  a  gentleman  from  Springfield,  who  knew  John's 
father,  happened  to  be  stopping  at  our  house,  and  inquir 
ed  about  the  boy — for  there  was  something  familiar  in  his 
face — and  learned  his  history.  This  gentleman  was  at  that 
time  having  some  business  relations  with  John's  mother's 
brother,  who  was  a  merchant  in  South  America — a  child 
less  widower,  who  little  suspected  that  he  had  a  nephew 
in  the  world.  So  the  gentleman  wrote  at  once  to  this 


140  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

uncle,  and  he  sent  for  John  to  come  to  him  in  South 
America,  where  he  remained  until  the  uncle  died.  I  lost 
the  thread  of  the  story  here,  father  was  in  such  a  hurry 
to  get  off  to  the  fields ;  but  I  suspect  there  was  some 
difficulty  in  settling  up  the  uncle's  affairs ;  at  all  events, 
Mr.  Deming  went  to  England,  studied  law  in  London, 
returned  some  years  ago,  and  has  been  practising  at  the 
bar  in  Philadelphia  ever  since.  It  appears  that  he  wrote 
to  father,  but  the  letter  never  reached  him ;  and  you  can 
imagine  his  surprise  when  he  came  into  the  room  this 
morning  and  saw  the  boy  he  had  long  since  given  up  for 
lost  or  dead  in  the  gentleman  who  rose  up  and  grasped 
his  hand,  and  told  him  he  was  John  Deming." 

Lucy  drew  a  long  breath  at  the  conclusion  of  this  story, 
to  which  she  had  listened  with  motionless  interest. 

"  I  declare,  Grace,"  was  her  first  comment,  "  it's  as  good 
as  a  novel — every  whit." 

"  It  seems  to  me  like  a  romance  more  than  anything  in 
actual  life.  But  why  didn't  you  get  here  earlier,  Lucy,  to 
take  dinner  with  him?" 

"  Why  didn't  I  ?  Mother  was  gettin'  up  a  bundle  of 
things  to  send  off  to  poor  dear  Nathaniel,  and  I  had  the 
shirts  all  to  finish  off,  for  mother's  eyes  aren't  good  at 
stitching,  and  it  wouldn't  do  to  wait,  as  Mr.  Minott,  who 
carries  the  box,  leaves  to-morrow,  and  I  couldn't  neglect 
Nathaniel  even  for  your  sake,  Grace." 

"  Of  course  not,    Lucy,"   and   the  speaker's  soft  hand 
dropped  with  a  little  fluttering  caress  on  the  girl's  shoul 
der,  which  said  more  than  the  words  did.     The  next  mo 
ment  Lucy  had  broken  out  into  one  of  her  quick,  explo 
sive  little  laughs  that  were  always  infectious. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Grace. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  141 

"  I  haven't  told  you  yet,  have  I  ?  You  see  I've  brought 
you  a  bowl  of  blackberries.  They're  the  first  we've  had 
this  season,  and  your  mother  said  you  hadn't  seen  one  since 
last  summer  ;  so  I  thought  they'd  be  a  treat. 

"No,  you  must  hear  my  story  before  you  thank  me, 
Grace.  That  unlucky  bowl  nearly  slipped  from  my  hands 
as  I  opened  the  gate,  and  something — I  thought  it  was  a 
nail — caught  the  skirt  of  my  dress  and  tore  it. 

"  I  exclaimed  right  out  after  my  fashion,  you  know, 
when  somebody  close  to  me  asked  my  pardon,  and  I  look 
ed  up.  Oh,  dear  me,  Grace,  I  wanted  the  earth  to  open 
for  a  minute  and  swallow  me  up  !" 

Grace  laughed  gleefully  ;  for  Lucy's  picturesque  descrip 
tion  was  assisted  by  various  expressive  pantomimes.  Lucy 
joined  in  with  her  own,  which  was  a  little  louder  and 
more  demonstrative,  to  suit  her  character,  and  then  con 
tinued  : 

"  I  stammered  out  some  awkward  kind  of  an  apology, 
and  he  answered  me,  lifting  his  hat  with  as  courtly  an  air 
as  though  I'd  been  a  queen  instead  of  a  goose,  I  don't 
know  what  he  thought  of  me,  and  I  don't  care,  either, 
Grace,"  with  a  toss  of  her  pretty  head,  which  was  an  in 
stinctive  affirmation  of  her  throwing  the  whole  thing  aside, 
which  Lucy  Trueman  did  figuratively  and  literally. 

"  I'd  never  give  it  another  thought,  Lucy,"  subjoined 
Grace,  the  lines  of  her  mouth  bending  as  she  spoke  into  an 
amused  smile.  "  And  come  to  think,  it's  of  very  little 
consequence  that  you  weren't  here  to-day,  for  you'll  have 
plenty  of  chances  to  dine  with  Mr.  Deming." 

"  Where  ?"  turning  around  in  surprise. 

"  At  the  tavern  ;  he's  gone  to  take  board  there  for  the 
rest  of  the  summer." 


142  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

Lucy's  face  was  more  expressive  than  her  words,  for 
these  were  only : 

"  Well,  now,  Grace !" 

"  Won't  your  mother  take  him,  Lucy  ?" 

"  Of  course  she  will,  and  glad  to  have  somebody  like 
Mr.  Deming  in  the  old  house ;  for  it's  as  deserted  as  an 
old  barn  since  the  war  commenced.  Nobody  stops  there 
now  but  farmers  on  their  way  to  town." 

At  that  moment  Lucy  caught  sight  of  the  rip  in  her 
dress. 

"  There's  Mr.  Deming's  mark.  Do  get  me  a  needle  and 
thread,  Grace." 

Grace  took  her  friend  up  to  her  room,  and  Lucy  was 
hardly  established  with  needle  and  thread  by  the  window 
before  the  little  rapid  tongue  commenced  again : 

"Have  you  heard  from  camp  since  I  was  here?"  A  tiny 
arch  smile  accompanied  the  question. 

A  half-grave,  half-conscious  one  answered  her  before  the 
words  did. 

"  Of  course  I  have ;  it's  a  week  since  you  were  here." 

Lucy  gave  a  little  cough  which  expressed  unutterable 
things. 

"  I  suppose  that  seems  a  long  time  to  you.  Good  news, 
Grace?" 

Grace  did  not  answer  this  time ;  she  looked  at  her  friend 
with  an  expression  half  reluctant,  half  confiding,  as  though 
she  was  tempted  to  communicate  something,  and  yet  from 
the  nature  of  the  subject  was  held  back.  Lucy  penetrated 
all  that  the  gaze  said;  she  leaned  forwards,  slipped  her 
hand  into  Grace's,  who  was  sitting  near  her,  and  said  in  a 
pretty,  enticing  way  : 

"  Dear  Grace,  you  won't  hesitate  to  tell  me  f" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  143 

A  very  soft  kiss  on  her  forehead  answered  first; 
then  Grace  spoke  in  a  lowered  tone,  as  though  the  topic 
was  too  deep  and  sacred  a  one  to  be  fitted  to  ordinary 
tones  : 

"  Edward  writes  me  in  the  best  spirits.  He  has  grown 
on  a  very  intimate  footing  with  General  Greene  of  Rhode 
Island,  and  likes  him  exceedingly.  He  dined  at  headquar 
ters  last  week  with  this  new  friend,  and  I  presume  it  is 
through  his  influence,  partly,  that  Edward  has  received  a 
captain's  commission." 

A  flash  of  pleasure  went  over  Lucy  Trueman's  face. 

'•  Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  Grace !  Won't  you  feel  proud  of  him 
one  of  these  days  when  he  comes  home  with  his  soldier's 
epaulettes  ?" 

Lucy  was  sorry  she  had  asked  the  question  before  the 
words  were  fairly  out  of  her  lips,  such  a  look  of  pain  that 
fairly  mounted  to  anguish  rose  into  her  friend's  face.  It 
was  put  aside  after  a  little  struggle,  and  the  voice  was 
steady  but  low,  and  full  of  much  which  no  words  could 
reach,  that  answered : 

"  I  never  think  of  that,  Lucy." 

Lucy  was  touched. 

"  It  must  be  hard,  very  hard,  Grace,"  she  said,  with  a 
mixture  of  sympathy  and  reverence  which  fairly  sobered 
the  bright  face  for  a  moment ;  "  I  don't  see  how  you  bear 
it  as  you  do." 

Grace's  voice  had  a  ring  of  triumph  in  it  which  her 
friend  had  never  heard  before,  and  from  within  there  came 
a  great  light  over  her  face  as  she  answered : 

"  God  helps  me  I" 

The  meeting  between  Mr.  Deming  and  Mrs.  Palmer, 
which  took  place  that  evening,  was  too  full  of  feeling  to  be 


144  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

very  demonstrative  on  either  side.  It  is  true,  the  Deacon's 
wife  was  shaken  with  tears,  for  she  remembered  two  little 
faces  with  clusters  of  bright  curls  which  John  Deming  had 
kissed  when  he  last  went  out  of  that  door,  and  which  lay 
still  under  the  pillows  of  the  summer  grass,  now  that  he 
had  come  in  again.  The  Deacon  and  his  guest  did  not 
retire  into  the  parlor  until  quite  late,  for  there  were  many 
matters  to  talk  over,  and  Mrs.  Palmer's  curiosity  and  inter 
est  were  not  easily  satisfied. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  before  the  lawyer  and  the 
farmer  separated.  The  latter  had  learned  one  interesting 
fact  which  would  have  a  strong  influence  in  his  favor.  It 
was  that  John  Deming  had  met,  while  at  Southampton,  a 
sailor,  whom  he  had  formerly  known  in  New  London,  and 
who  had,  previous  to  entering  upon  a  seafaring  life,  worked 
for  a  summer  on  Deacon  Palmer's  farm.  Mr.  Deming  and 
the  rough  sailor  had  many  pleasant  memories  and  associa 
tions  in  common,  and  in  talking  of  the  Deacon  one  day, 
the  sailor  related  to  his  young  friend  the  story  which  he 
had  heard  in  his  boyhood  from  the  lips  of  his  grandfather, 
of  the  rescue  of  Samuel  Jarvys  from  drowning  by  David 
Palmer,  at  the  risk  of  the  latter's  life. 

And  the  grandfather  of  the  sailor  happened  also  to  be 
one  of  the  men  who  had  witnessed  the  sale  of  the  lands 
now  included  in  the  Palmer  homestead,  and  the  sailor 
repeated  the  conversation  which  had  occurred  that  even 
ing  between  the  two  farmers  before  the  sale  was  consum 
mated,  and  in  all  essential  respects  it  duplicated  Mrs.  Pal 
mer's  statements.  The  sailor  had  remarked  to  Mr.  Deming 
that  his  grandfather  lived  to  a  great  age,  and  his  mind 
was  very  fond  of  dwelling  on  the  past  and  talking  over 
the  events  of  his  youth ;  and  Mr.  Deming  had  abundant 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  145 

evidence  that  one  at  least  of  his  descendants  had  inherited 
his  garrulity. 

Still,  he  listened  with  warm  interest  to  the  sailor's  remi 
niscences  of  the  Palmer  family,  for  anything  associated 
with  them  was  pleasant  to  him. 

"  If  we  could  only  get  hold  of  this  sailor,  now !"  said 
Deacon  Palmer. 

"It  would  go  far  towards  confirming  your  title,  Deacon. 
I'm  in  hopes  the  fellow  may  turn  up  yet  on  some 
West  Indiaman  or  whaling  ship.  What  a  God-send  the 
sight  of  that  old  tarpaulin  of  his  would  be  !" 

"  But  it  isn't  in  the  natur'  o'  things — it'll  be  an  especial 
Providence  if  he  should,"  said  the  Deacon,  shaking  his 
head.  "  Do  you  think  that  the  case  is  lost  without  him  ?" 

" Oh,  no  ;  not  that"  Lawyer  Deming  tapped  the  table 
with  a  professional  air.  "I  see  clearly  where  Richard 
Jarvys  thinks  his  strong  points  and  your  weak  ones 
are.  And  there's  no  doubt  that  the  title-deed  being  in 
his  hands,  arid  your  having  neither  bill  of  sale  nor  record 
to  produce,  make  the  weather  looks  qually  for  us.  You 
see,  Deacon,  I  can't  quite  get  the  old  nautical  phrases  I 
learned  in  going  round  the  world  out  of  my  head  or 
off  my  tongue." 

"Don't  try  to,  John.  There's  nothin'  like  those  old 
seafarin'  sayin's  for  throwin'  out  a  sudden  picter,  or  hit- 
tin'  the  nail  right  on  the  head." 

"  That's  my  belief.  I  think,  notwithstanding  the  thing 
is  certainly  on  first  view  in  favor  of  Ralph  Jarvys, 
you  have  evidence  to  adduce  which  will  make  it  hard  to 
get  judgment  against  you.  Then  one  thing  is  certain — 
the  thing  is  so  involved  that  it  will  be  easy  to  get  the 
matter  postponed  for  several  sessions  in  order  to  wait  the 

7 


146  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

possible  appearance  of  an  important  witness.  And  you 
can  appeal  the  thing  in  case  it  should  be  decided  against 
you.  I'll  manage  that." 

"  Then  I  may  count  on  having  the  shelter  of  my  own 
roof  for  a  little  while  longer,  John  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  For  two  years  at  least ;  and  always,  if 
any  work  of  mine  can  accomplish  it.  There's  my  hand 
on  that,  Deacon." 

Deacon  Palmer  rose  up  and  grasped  the  offered  hand, 
and  John  Deming  knew  why  the  old  man  was  silent. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  147 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

THE  winter  had  passed,  and  once  more  they  said  in 
the  Colonies  :  "  The  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  has 
corne." 

Perhaps  it  had  never  been  said  with  such  joyful  thanks 
giving  since  that  spring,  more  than  a  century  and  a  half 
before,  when,  after  the  long,  slow  winter  of  suffering  and 
anguish  had  gone  over  their  heads,  the  weary  Pilgrims 
of  the  Mayflower  felt  the  first  soft  south-wind  in  March, 
and  the  birds  sang  sweetly  in  the  woods  of  a  land  which 
one  winter  had  scattered  thick  with  English  graves. 

No  wonder  that  sweet  south  wind,  those  birds  singing 
in  the  forests,  seemed  to  the  pilgrims  like  a  voice  and  a 
breath  from  heaven  as  they  drank  in  the  one  and  listened 
to  the  other  in  the  doors  of  the  cabins  they  had  reared 
on  the  New  England  coast — cabins  in  these  wildernesses 
whose  thresholds  were  holier  and  of  more  value  in  the 
eyes  of  the  watching  angels  than  all  the  mighty  temples 
and  lofty  palaces  of  the  world.  And  it  was  spring  again, 
just  one  hundred  and  fifty -five  years  later,  and  the  chil 
dren  of  the  pilgrims  rejoiced  and  gave  thanks. 

It  had  been  a  winter  of  sore  hardships,  of  bitter  fear  and 
trial  throughout  the  land.  All  eyes  had  been  directed 
towards  the  Continental  army,  which  had  held  Boston  in 
a  state  of  siege  through  the  winter;  and  all  patriot  hearts 
had  been  sick  with  hope  deferred  as  the  slow  months  roll- 


148  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS 

ed  away  and  the  army  still  lay  coiled  like  a  great  serpent 
about  Boston.  There  had  been  murmurings,  repinings, 
and  denunciations  at  this  long  inaction ;  the  brave  and  the 
patriotic  had  borne  and  suffered  patiently,  but  now  all  else 
was  drowned  in  the  cry  of  joy  that  came  with  the  first 
swelling  of  the  buds,  with  the  first  song  of  the  birds. 

This  man,  George  Washington,  doubted  by  so  many, 
oelieved  in  by  some,  narrowly  watched  and  criticised  by 
all — for  the  destinies  of  a  young  nation  struggling  for  her 
life  in  the  grasp  of  the  old  powerful  monarchy  that  was 
seeking  to  crush  it  under  her  feet — this  thoughtful,  reserv 
ed  Virginian  had  proved  himself  worthy  of  the  mighty 
trust  reposed  by  Congress  to  him — he  had  struck  the  great 
blow  on  Dorchester  Heights,  and  the  white  sails  of  the 
British  fleet  had  swept  slowly  away  from  the  harbor  of 
Boston. 

The  heart  of  America  throbbed  with  new  courage  and 
hope,  and  our  fathers  and  mothers  rejoiced  and  were  of 
good  cheer  as  they  looked  in  each  other's  faces  and  said: 
"  The  Lord  hath  arisen  to  our  help  against  the  mighty." 

Grace  Palmer  was  up  in  the  garret  that  afternoon  of 
April,  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-six.  The  roof  was 
low,  and  the  room  was  lighted  by  one  small  window ;  and 
the  sweet  spring  sunshine  laughed  triumphantly  along  the 
blackened  rafters,  and  into  the  dark  corners  filled  with  all 
that  miscellaneous  household  rubbish  which  had  sustained 
such  infirmities  after  long  and  honorable  service,  or  broken 
down  suddenly  under  compound  fractures,  that  it  was  pro 
nounced  unworthy  of  further  duty,  and  assigned  to  lasting 
repose  and  silence  in  those  legendary  habitations  of* ghosts 
and  goblins — the  garret ! 

The  floor  was  variously  carpeted  with  patches  of  dried 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  149 

herbs,  and  corn,  and  butternuts — the  gold,  and  black,  and 
pale  green  making  a  kind  of  mosaic.  Grace  Palmer  was 
bending  over  a  large  oak  chest  which  stood  under  the 
window  ;  on  either  side  of  her  lay  a  snowy  pile  of  flannel 
and  fine  linen,  every  stratum  of  which  had  received  a  most 
careful  inspection.  Then  a  little  further  off  was  a  smaller 
pile  of  pillow-cases,  with  broad  hems  and  little  dainty  veins 
of  hem-stitching  in  scarlet  around  the  margins;  and  still 
beyond  was  a  heap  of  quilts  in  all  rare  and  intricate 
devices  of  patchwork — shells,  and  chains,  and  scallops,  in 
which  the  youthful  imagination  and  invention  of  Mrs. 
Patience  Palmer  had  delighted  themselves. 

"  There  hasn't  a  moth  got  to  one  of  these  things,,"  mur 
mured  Grace  to  herself,  as  she  surveyed  the  variegated  piles 
about  her  with  a  face  which  had  none  of  the  natural  pride 
and  pleasure  of  possession  which  they  were  calculated  to 
awaken,  for  all  these  things  had  been  spun,  and  woven,  and 
fashioned  by  her  mother's  own  fingers ;  and  Mrs.  Palmer 
had  taken  no  little  satisfaction  in  reflecting  that  there  was 
not  one  among  Grace's  young  friends  who  matched  her 
daughter  in  the  quantity  or  quality  of  her  household  linen. 

Grace  leaned  her  cheek  in  the  palm  of  her  hand  and 
gazed  with  a  face  that  grew  into  mournfulness  on  the  snowy 
heaps.  It  was  evident  that  they  touched  deeply  on  some 
secret  pain  in  her  heart.  They  had  no  pleasant  associations 
with  her  future ;  tncjy  woke  no  visions  of  a  fair  home, 
around  which  gathered  all  that  was  sweet  and  sacred  in 
her  woman's  heart ;  the  slow  tears  swelled  into  the  dark 
eyes  of  the  gazing  girl — swelled  and  plashed  down  on  the 
fingers  that  cushioned  her  cheek. 

Grace  had  rejoiced,  as  few  women  did,  in  the  glad  tidings 
which  the  spring  had  brought  for  her  country ;  but  as  the 


150  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

winter  wore  away  she  had  longed  unspeakably  for  a  sight 
of  Edward  Dudley,  and  he  had  himself  written  in  confi 
dent  expectation  of  obtaining  a  furlough.  But  the  com- 
mander-in-chief,  apprehensive  that  the  British  fleet  had 
sailed  at  once  to  blockade  New  York,  in  which  it  was  well 
known  there  was  a  strong  and  active  Tory  party,  had 
hurried  forward  detachments  to  that  city,  and  amongst 
these  was  the  regiment  in  which  Captain  Dudley  served. 
It  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to  the  Deacon's  daughter, 
for  she  had  looked  forward  with  greedy  anticipation  to 
seeing  Edward  before  May,  and  there  was  now  no  telling 
where  he  would  be  ordered  or  when  he  would  return. 

The  town  of  New  London  was  full  of  rejoicing  and 
excitement,  for  the  brigade  of  General  Greene  had  stopped 
there  on  its  way  to  New  York,  but  Grace  could  not  bear 
the  sight  of  the  troops  or  the  general  rejoicing ;  and  so  she 
had  made  an  excuse  to  her  mother  for  slipping  off  up 
garret  to  examine  the  "  oak  chest,"  about  whose  contents 
Mrs.  Palmer  was  always  solicitous. 

"  Poor  mother !  Her  heart's  greatly  set  on  these  things, 
but  they  don't  give  me  any  pleasure !"  murmured  Grace, 
shutting  down  the  tears  that  were  about  to  plash  on  her 
fingers  the  second  time. 

And  then,  with  the  habit  of  self-control  which  both  her 
education  and  her  experience  had  confirmed,  she  set  her 
self  pnce  more  to  work,  diligently  bestowing  the  linen  in 
the  bottom  of  the  chest,  and  laying  the  burden  which  was 
too  heavy  for  her  heart  on  that  One  which  has  borne  all 
human  burdens. 

Suddenly  there  came  the  tramp  of  feet  up  the  garret 
stairs,  and  Robert's  eager  voice  came  to  his  sister : 

"  Grace,  are  you  here?" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  151 

"  Yes  ;  do  you  want  me  ?" 

"Guess  who  is  in  town  ?"  The  youth  had  mounted  the 
last  stair  now,  and  his  face  and  voice  answered  each  other, 
both  full  of  pleased  excitement. 

"  I  can't,  Kobert,"  thinking  it  was  of  very  small  con 
sequence  to  her,  as  she  diligently  kept  on  adding  new 
strata  of  linen  to  the  pile  in  the  chest. 

"  General  George  Washington's  in  New  London !" 
Robert  Palmer  spoke  in  a  loud  voice,  emphasizing  every 
syllable  as  though  there  was  triumph  in  every  one. 

Grace  did  turn  round  now,  her  face  beaming  surprise 
and  delight. 

"  Oh,  Kobert,  is  that  really  true  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  he  stops  there  over  night,  at  the  residence 
of  Mr.  Nathaniel  Shaw.  He's  hurrying  on,  you  see,  to  join 
General  Putnam  at  New  York,  so  as  not  to  be  behind 
General  Howe.  We  boys  are  going  to  try  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  him." 

"  I  envy  you,  Robert.  Woman  as  I  am,  I'd  cheerfully 
walk  ten  miles  this  night  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  General's 
face!" 

"  You  know  he's  written  for  three  thousand  Connecticut 
troops,  and  it  comes  hard  on  our  county  to  raise  their 
quota.  Oh,  Grace,  I  long  to  be  one  of  them  !" 

"  Do  you,  Robert  ?"  looking  with  yearning  tenderness  on 
the  frank  face  of  the  boy.  "  Father's  getting  to  be  an  old 
man,  and  you're  too  young  for  the  service  yet." 

"  Well,  I'll  stay  awhile  longer  and  work  on  the 
farm—" 

"  Grace,"  called  Mrs.  Palmer,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  in 
an  excited  tone,  which  she  made  great  efforts  to  control, 
"  won't  you  just  come  down  here  ?" 


152  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"In  a  minute,  mother.  I  want  to  lay  up  the  rest  of 
these  blankets." 

"Never  mind  the  blankets  now,  child.  Come  right 
down  here." 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  a  very  poor  actress.  She  could  not 
keep  down  a  surge  of  excitement  in  her  voice.  It  hurried 
Grace  down  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Mother,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"  It  was  /  wanted  you,  Grace  !"  said  a  voice  that  was 
not  her  mother's. 

Grace  turned  with  a  low  cry  at  the  sound.  There  stood 
the  tall  young  officer,  smiling  down  on  her  with  eyes  in 
which  many  feelings  combated  together.  He  stretched 
out  his  arms,  and  there  was  none  to  see  when  he  drew 
down  to  his  lips  the  cheek  of  Grace  Palmer — nor  for  three 
hours  after  that. 

A  short  time  before  the  first  detachment  of  troops  had 
left  the  camp,  Edward  Dudley  had  been  advanced  to  the 
rank  of  Major,  and  had  also  been  enabled  to  obtain  a 
furlough  from  the  Cornmander-in-chief ;  and  he  hurried  on 
to  New  London  in  his  company,  for  the  American  army 
was  now  on  its  way  to  New  York,  where  Major  Dudley 
was  to  rejoin  his  regiment. 

"No,  you  are  not  going  to  leave  me,  Grace,  for  any 
summons  in  this  world,"  said  the  young  Major,  as  he 
pushed  Grace  back  playfully  into  the  seat  from  whence 
she  had  risen.  "  Remember  through  how  many  long 
months  I  have  hungered  and  thirsted  for  a  sight  of  your 
sweet  face,"  and  he  looked  at  it  with  an  unutterable  ten 
derness,  as,  with  all  its  unbent  lines  and  the  buds  in  full 
blossom  on  its  cheeks  for  joy,  it  smiled  before  him;  a  face 
so  fair  and  sweet  that  it  must  have  moved  all  the  loving 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  153 

reverence  in  the  heart  of  any  true  man  to  whom  it  had 
given  itself. 

"  I  should  think — Edward,"  and  the  little  pause  before 
and  after  the  name  gave  it  a  setting  more  precious  than 
pearls  or  diamonds — "  I  should  think  you'd  hunger  and 
thirst  after  the  sight  of  something  to  eat  by  this  time.  I'm 
afraid  you  haven't  had  too  much  of  this,  by  the  stories 
we've  heard  about  you  at  camp." 

"  Ob,  well,  a  man  who  serves  his  country  mustn't  be 
dainty,  you  know ;  and  then  the  country-folks  did  their 
best  for  us.  I  don't  look  as  though  camp  life  had  injured 
me,  do  I?"  as  he  rose  and  stood  before  her. 

She  looked  at  the  handsome  young  officer  with  eyes  in 
which  pride  and  tenderness  had  a  conflict.  The  lithe  limbs, 
the  bronzed  face,  bore  their  own  testimony  of  added 
strength  and  vigor. 

"  No.  I  must  acknowledge,  a  little  reluctantly,  that  a 
soldier's  life  agrees  with  you,"  her  sweet  smile  just  a  little 
touched  with  gravity. 

"  And  carrying  the  thought  of  a  soldier  locked  up  in 
your  heart  hasn't  disagreed  with  you,  my  little  girl — my 
one  lily,  filling  my  heart  always  with  fragrance."  And 
here  he  bent  down  to  her  lips,  more  fragrant  than  any 
lilies. 

"Now,  won't  you  let  me  go,  Edward,"  she  said,  in  her 
pretty  pleading  way,  after  the  first  flutter  of  timidity  at  his 
caress  was  over,  "just  a  few  moments  to  give  mother  some 
suggestions  about  supper." 

"  Not  until  you  have  promised  me  something  which  I 
half  fear  to  propose  to  you,  after  all." 

"  It  would  be  very  hard  to  refuse  you  anything  to-day, 
Edward." 

7* 


154  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUE  FATHERS. 

"  "Well,  then,  I've  promised  to  take  you  somewhere  to 
night  !" 

"  Where  can  it  be  ?" 

"  Into  New  London.  I  mean  to  present  you  to  General 
Washington  to-night !" 

"  Edward  !"  she  stood  still,  staring  at  him  in  amazement, 
which  quite  banished  the  unusual  color  from  her  cheek. 

"Now,  darling,  don't  take  it  in  this  fashion.  It's  no 
thing  to  be  disturbed  about.  You  know  General  Greene  and 
I  have  grown  this  winter  to  be  very  good  friends;  and  in 
short,  I've  promised  him  that  he  shall  have  a  glimpse  of 
you  this  evening  if  I  can  prevail  upon  you  to  accompany 
me.  Won't  you  do  it  for  my  sake  ?" 

She  drew  a  long,  long  breath  of  doubt,  and  fear,  and 
dread ;  and  all  these  had  their  witness  in  her  face. 

"  You  know,  Edward,  there  are  greater  things  than  this 
that  I  would  do  for  your  sake.  But  I  am  not  accustomed 
to  society  of  this  kind.  I  shall  be  quite  out  of  place  in  it ;" 
she  said  this  with  a  touching  humility  which  gave  her  face, 
for  a  moment,  the  look  of  a  little  child. 

"  /  shan't  be  ashamed  of  you,  Grace,"  said  the  lover, 
with  a  glance  which  surveyed  with  most  evident  satisfac 
tion  the  graceful  figure,  the  delicate  loveliness  of  the  •  face 
before  him.  "  Dear  Grace,  you  are  a  sensible  girl ;  you 
will  put  all  self-consciousness  away  and  not  let  me  go  with 
out  you  ?" 

She  looked  at  him,  and  it  was  not  in  her  heart  to  refuse 
him ;  so  she  answered,  half  wondering  if  it  was  no't  all  a 
dream : 

"  You  shall  not  go  without  me,  Edward,"  and  then 
received  his  thank-offering,  which  was  not  a  verbal  one, 
and  went  in  quest  of  her  mother. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  155 

Great  was  the  consternation  of  Mrs.  Palmer  when  her 
daughter  first  disclosed  to  her  the  invitation  she  had 
received ;  but  this  was  in  a  little  while  superseded  by  a 
feeling  of  maternal  pride  in  the  flattering  attention  bestowed 
on  her  child.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Palmer  was  so  absorbed  in  the 
thought  of  the  necessary  preparations  for  this  visit,  that 
she  in  nowise  did  herself  justice  as  hostess  at  the  supper- 
table  that  night ;  but  Grace's  mind  and  heart  were  too  well 
regulated  to  be  long  in  resuming  their  equilibrium.  So 
she  sat  at  the  table  and  supplied  all  her  mother's  inadver 
tencies  with  her  usual  sweet  gravity  of  speech  and  move 
ment,  and  listened  to  the  animated  conversation  betwixt 
Major  Dudley  and  her  father,  her  face  shining  with  a  light 
which  did  not  come  altogether  from  the  joj'  of  that  time. 

"  What  were  you  thinking  that  made  you  look  so  pretty 
at  the  table  ?"  asked  Edward  Dudley,  as  soon  as  he  had 
her  to  himself  again. 

"  I  was  thinking,  Edward,  how  good  God  had  been  to 
me  in  bringing  you  back  safe  once  more,  and  thanking 
Him  for  it." 

At  that  moment  she  was  summoned  away  by  her  mother, 
with  a  reminder  that  it  was  high  time  to  see  about  her 
dress. 

An  hour  and  a  half  later,  she  came  down  stairs  arrayed 
for  the  evening.  It  was  in  very  simple  fashion,  and  yet 
there  was  a  fine  artistic  harmony  betwixt  the  face  and  the 
dress  of  the  girl.  This  dress  happened  to  be  her  mother's 
wedding  one,  which  had  fortunately  been  made  over  for 
Grace  to  wear  on  state  occasions  a  few  months  before,  Mrs. 
Palmer  having  resorted  to  this  expedient  on  account  of  the 
war,  which  prevented  the  importation  of  foreign  goods. 

The  fabric  was  of  the  richest  satin,  a  warm  brown 


156  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

ground,  with  crimson  sprays  of  blossoms  scattered  over  it ; 
and  it  was  made  in  the  simplest  fashion  of  that  period,  with 
a  high  waist  and  trailing  skirt,  the  line  around  the  neck 
softened  by  a  surf  of  white  frilling ;  the  sleeves  short,  and 
around  the  white  arms  floated  a  film  of  very  rich  lace, 
which  had  been  an  heirloom  in  Mrs.  Palmer's  family. 

Her  hair  was  arranged  much  in  its  usual  simple  fashion — 
the  broad  puffs  caught  up  back  of  the  small  ears,  without 
any  ornament ;  its  rich  hue  and  abundance  were  enough. 

Kobert  had  brought  the  horses  to  the  door,  and  the 
family  had  assembled  to  witness  her  departure.  Grace 
stood  there,  smiling  and  blushing  as  admiring  eyes  surveyed 
her ;  but  Benny  was  the  first  who  gave  expression  to  his 
feelings,  which  he  did  with  the  straightforwardness  and 
emphasis  peculiar  to  that  individual. 

He  had  stood  by  Edward  Dudley,  his  large  eyes  growing 
larger  and  larger  as  they  surveyed  his  sister,  until  at  last, 
drawing  a  long  breath,  he  looked  up  with  : 

"  Don't  she  look  handsome  ;  don't  she,  though  ?" 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  this,  in  which  Grace  could 
not  choose  but  join ;  and  Edward  patted  the  boy's  curls 
and  answered : 

"I  think  that  expresses  all  our  sentiments,  Benny!" 

General  Washington  passed  the  night  with  Mr.  Natha 
niel  Shaw,  of  New  London.*  A  large  company  was 
assembled  there,  consisting  of  the  principal  inhabitants  of 
that  and  neighboring  towns,  and  officers  of  the  army  on 

*  The  chamber  in  which  he  reposed  has  been  retained  of  the  same  size 
and  finish,  and  even  the  furniture  has  been  but  little  varied  since. 

When  La  Fayette  visited  New  London  in  1824,  being  shown  into  this 
room,  he  knelt  reverently  by  the  side  of  the  bed  and  remained  a  few  minutes 
in  silent  prayer. — Miss  Caulkins's  "  History  of  New  London." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  157 

their  way  to  New  York,  and  of  the  fleet  under  Admiral 
Hopkins,  which  had  entered  the  harbor  on  the  previous 
day  ;  and  Major  Dudley  had  many  friends  and  acquaint 
ances  among  the  guests. 

t  A  social  atmosphere  of  this  kind  was,  of  course,  quite 
new  to  Grace ;  but  she  was  an  instinctive  "  gentlewoman," 
and  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  time  with  an  interest  and 
absorption  which  effectually  banished  all  self-consciousness. 
She  did  not  even  know  that  many  admiring  glances  were 
bent  on  her  from  those  who  were  accustomed  to  the  society 
of  the  most  beautiful  women,  not  only  of  their  own  land, 
but  of  foreign  courts  ;  but  if  Grace  was  unconscious  of  the 
admiration  she  inspired,  there  was  another  who  sufficiently 
took  note  of  and  enjoyed  it. 

She  had  a  very  pleasant  interview  with  General  Greene. 
She  liked  his  fine,  animated  face,  his  frank,  manly  bearing ; 
and  his  bonhommie  and  affable  manner  at  once  placed  her 
at  her  ease.  She  chatted  with  him  and  laughed — the  laugh 
which  was  music  to  hear — at  his  sallies  and  his  amusing 
stories  of  what  had  happened  under  his  own  observation  on 
the  morning  that  the  Continental  army  entered  Boston, 
after  the  British  troops  had  left  and  the  inhabitants 
rejoined  the  friends  from  whom  they  had  been  separated 
for  ten  months. 

"  The  women  of  Boston  have  borne  their  part  bravely 
for  their  country ;  I  wonder  whose  turn  it  will  come  next?" 
said  Grace,  as  the  officer  paused. 

"  I  hope  it  will  never  be  yours,"  responded  the  General, 
looking  on  the  face  full  of  sweet  animation  upturned  to 
his. 

"  If  it  should,  I  hope  that  I  should  do  and  bear  what  was 
appointed  me,"  she  said,  very  simply  ;  but  she  did  not  sus- 


158  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

pect  that  her  face  said  more  than  this,  as,  speaking  of 
endurance  and  courage  to  the  death,  it  flashed  up  to  him. 

Greene  was  touched.  "  I  wish  every  man  and  woman 
in  the  Colonies  had  a  heart  loyal  as  yours  !"  he  said  ;  then 
he  turned,  and  in  an  undertone :  "  Dudley,  don't  you  intend 
showing  this  pretty  little  patriot  of  yours  to  the  General  ?" 

"  I  want  to  show  him  to  Aer,  for  it  would  be  a  lifelong 
remembrance.  But  you  see  he's  so  engrossed,  I  hardly 
know  how  to  manage  it  without  being  intrusive." 

"  Leave  it  to  me ;  I'll  see  it  done,"  responded  Greene, 
who  was  on  an  intimate  footing  with  the  Commander-in- 
Chief. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  touched  Major  Dudley's  shoul 
der : 

"  Come  with  me  now,"  he  said. 

Grace's  heart  gave  a  quick  bound  as  she  took  Edward's 
arm  and  followed  Greene  into  another  room  where,  the 
Commander-in-Chief  stood,  the  centre  of  a  group  of  officers, 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation  about  the  probabilities  of 
General  Howe's  anchoring  in  New  York  harbor. 

Greene  made  his  way  through  the  group  of  gentlemen, 
followed  by  the  Major  and  Grace,  and  she  was  formally 
presented  to  his  Excellency. 

Washington  looked  down  with  features  that  relaxed 
from  their  gravity  as  he  saw  the  sweet  face,  touched  with  that 
reverence  which  gave  it  the  look  of  a  little  child,  upturned 
to  his.  He  took  the  girl's  hand  in  his  kindliest  fashion, 
and  then  Greene  interposed : 

"  Miss  Palmer  said  she'd  walk  twenty  miles  to  get  a 
sight  of  your  Excellency,  and  I  thought  such  a  speech 
deserved  she  should  have  that  pleasure  when  she  was  in 
the  next  room  to  you." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  159 

The  listening  officers  laughed.  "Washington  smiled  down 
on  the  blushing  girl. 

"It  would  not  have  been  worth  coming  any  further, 
Miss  Palmer.  You  would  have  gone  back,  saying,  '  What 
went  we  out  into  the  wilderness  for  to  see !' " 

The  beautiful  face  flashed  up  in  sudden  enthusiasm. 
The  voice  of  Grace  Palmer  fell  with  its  silvery  chime  upon 
the  momentary  silence : 

"  No,  your  Excellency ;  I  should  have  gone  back  saying, 
'  I  have  seen  the  Father  and  Deliverer  of  his  country.' " 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  smiling  approval  among 
the  officers.  Washington  was  greatly  moved. 

"  My  child,"  he  answered,  with  a  touched  voice,  "may 
God  grant  that  I  shall  be  all  you  have  called  me !"  and, 
with  the  stately  courtesy  which  always  distinguished  him, 
he  bowed  low  over  the  small  hand  and  lifted  it  to  his  lips. 

There  was  no  time  for  more  than  this.  The  burden  of 
his  military  cares  left  little  opportunity  for  social  relaxation 
to  the  Commander-in-Chief,  and  after  exchanging  a  few 
words  with  Major  Dudley,  Grace  and  he  moved  away. 

The  young  officer  was  so  proud  and  happy  at  the  evi 
dent  sensation  which  his  betrothed  had  created,  that  he 
was  about  to  express  his  delight  to  Grace ;  but  the  first 
glance  at  her  face  checked  him,  it  was  so  child-like  and 
unconscious;  she  had  been  so  absolutely  free  from  any 
thought  of  the  effect  of  her  speech,  it  had  come  so  spon 
taneously  from  her  heart  to  her  lips,  that  Edward  Dudley 
refrained  from  uttering  what  was  in  his  thoughts.  "  It 
would  be  like  brushing  the  fine  gloss  fiom  the  flower,"  he 
said  to  himself. 

As  they  rode  home  on  horseback,  after  the  fashion  of 
those  times,  the  young  officer  asked  : 


160  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  How  have  you  enjoyed  yourself  this  evening,  Grace  ?" 

Her  face  made  answer — turned  up  to  him  in  the  April 
starlight — before  her  lips  did  : 

"  Oh,  Edward,  more  than  I  can  tell  you  !" 

"  I  think  you  must  have  made  a  very  agreeable  impres 
sion  on  his  Excellency.  Do  you  know  he  congratulated 
me  to-night — I  shall  leave  you  to  guess  for  what  and 
whom!" 

Her  face,  full  of  surprise  and  pleasure  now,  showed  that 
she  would  not  have  to  go  far  to  do  it ;  and  she  was  quite 
too  truthful  to  affect  an  ignorance  which  she  did  not  feel. 

"  He  did—  why,  Edward  !" 

"  Yes,  he  did.     "What  do  you  think  of  your  hero  ?" 

"  Oh,  Edward,  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  thought  and 
felt,  standing  in  the  presence  of  that  great,  good  man." 

"  Good  and  great,  Grace ;  for  with  all  his  great  military 
skill  and  experience,  what  would  George  Washington  be 
worth  now  to  his  country  if  it  were  not  for  his  good  and 
great  heart." 

The  rest  of  the  way  they  rode  mostly  in  silence — 
silence  which  was  to  each  heart  complete  and  joyful  utter 
ance. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  161 


CHAPTEE  X. 

THE  three  days,  with  the  close  of  which  Major  Dudley's 
furlough  expired,  passed  swiftly  away.  Yery  bright  were 
the  varied  patterns  which  the  loom  of  those  precious,  hur 
rying  hours  wrought  in  the  life  of  Grace  Palmer,  making 
those  that  went  before  and  came  after  seem  paler  and 
drearier  by  contrast. 

Yet  they  were  not  days  given  up  solely  to  enjoyment, 
though  they  talked  and  read  and  jested  together,  and 
walked  out  in  the  sweet  April  sunshine  under  the  orchard- 
trees,  where  the  birds  sang  and  the  leaves  grew  larger 
every  day. 

They  strengthened  and  exalted  each  other  for  whatever 
in  God's  good  providence  was  to  come — they  comforted 
and  gladdened  each  the  other  with  speech  of  human  trust 
and  tenderness,  but  which  did  not  rest  there,  but  went  out 
and  upward  for  that  great  and  infinite  tenderness  in  which 
both  hearts  believed  and  rested.'  So  when  the  great  trial 
of  separation  came,  it  did  not  find  the  man  or  the  woman 
unprepared. 

The  stage  which  went  South  left  a  little  before  noon. 
Edward  had  passed  a  part  of  the  morning  culling  out 
favorite  passages  of  Shakspeare  to  read  to  Grace,  giving 
her  some  suggestions  with  regard  to  her  future  studies, 
and  then  he  drew  a  low  seat  to  his  side,  seated  her  on  it, 
and  laid  her  head  on  his  knee,  and  there  fell  a  silence  on 


162  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

them  both  ;  only  his  stroking  of  her  cheek  said  much  that 
words  could  not.  At  last  he  spoke,  knowing  that  now  the 
minutes  were  few,  and  that  there  might  come  a  time  when 
she  would  need  the  words,  much  as  it  might  cost  him  now 
to  say  them. 

"  Be  brave  and  strong,  dear,  whatever  happens,  remem 
bering  that  nothing  can  really  harm  us,  because  we  are  the 
children  of  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven." 

She  understood  what  he  meant,  and  lifted  her  face  with 
a  low  drawn — 

"  Oh,  Edward  !" 

Then  she  turned  her  head  quickly  away,  but  not  until 
he  had  seen  the  spasm  of  agony  that  went  over  it.  The 
sight  was  like  a  dagger  stuck  up  to  its  hilt  in  his  heart. 
He  could  do  nothing  now  but  draw  her  to  him  and  silently 
pray  God  to  help  and  comfort  her.  He  thought  his  prayer 
was  answered  when  she  looked  up  and  smiled  in  his  face — • 
with  lips  that  trembled,  though. 

A  little  later  they  went  together  to  the  door,  neither 
speaking.  He  slipped  a  small  box  into  her  hand,  then  he 
took  her  in  his  arms,  and  in  a  steady  voice  bade  her  be 
courageous,  be  of  good  comfort,  and  to  wait  on  the  Lord ! 
Those  were  the  last  words  she  heard  him  speak. 

She  went  back  into  the  parlor.  She  did  not  know  that 
she  had  sat  there  an  hour  before  she  thought  of  the  small 
box  in  her  hand.  "When  she  opened  it,  a  green  velvet 
case  disclosed  itself.  She  touched  the  spring,  and  then — it 
was  a  pity  Major  Dudley  could  not  see  her  face  at  that 
moment.  Only  with  the  first  joy  of  seeing  his  could  hers 
look  like  that.  There  he  was,  in  his  officer's  dress  of  blue 
and  gold,  the  large,  deep  eyes  smiling  into  hers ;  the  lips 
had  the  unbent  line  which  best  became  them — the  strong, 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  163 

scholarly  face  had  its  softest  expression.  Altogether  the 
painting  was  an  inspiration  of  the  artist,  and  in  the  corner 
of  the  box  a  little  note  read :  "  Keep  this,  dear  Grace,  in 
the  stead  of  me." 

"  Oh,  Grace,  isn't  it  perfect  ?" 

Lucy  Truernan  was  looking  archly  over  her  shoulder. 
She  had  come  in  so  softly  that  Grace  in  her  abstraction 
had  not  heard  her. 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Lucy,  in  her  frank,  pretty  way, 
putting  her  arm  around  her  friend.  "  It  seems  as  if  he 
must  speak  this  minute." 

After  the  girls  had  looked  at  the  picture  a  few  minutes, 
Lucy  continued,  throwing  herself  into  a  chair  and  pulling 
off  her  sun-bonnet : 

"  I  thought  you'd  feel  bad  enough,  Grace,  when  the 
stage  went  out  to-day,  and  so  I'd  come  over  and  try  to 
cheer  you  up  a  little." 

"  It  was  very  kind — very  thoughtful  in  you,  Lucy," 
looking  with  grateful  eyes  upon  her  friend. 

"No,  it  wasn't,  either,"  said  Lucy,  with  an  amusing 
little  bit  of  perversity.  "  I'm  not  good,  nor  thoughtful, 
nor  anything  else  of  the  kind." 

"  I  shouldn't  allow  anybody  but  you  to  slander  Lucy 
Trueman  so,"  replied  Grace,  with  a  little  indulgent  smile. 

Lucy  pouted  her  lips  and  pinched  her  bonnet  strings ; 
but  Grace  detected  a  shadow  on  the  girl's  face  which  was 
more  than  playful  perversity — it  was  pain  ! 

"  Lucy,"  leaning  forward  with  eyes  of  loving  solicitude, 
for  Grace  had  the  generous  heart  which  goes  quickly  out 
of  its  own  sorrows  into  others,  "  is  anything  troubling  you 
this  morning — tell  me?" 

Lucy  tossed  her  head. 


164  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  No,  indeed  !  I  should  like  to  see  anybody  or  anything 
that  would  dare  to  trouble  me  I  What  can  have  put  that 
idea  into  your  head  ?" 

Grace  was  not  convinced  ;  but  she  understood  Lucy,  and 
wisely  thought  it  best  to  let  her  take  her  own  time  and 
way  for  explanations,  so  she  answered  simply : 

"  I  thought  that  you  didn't  look  quite  so  happy  as 
usual." 

There  was  a  pause  now,  in  which  Grace  continued  to 
examine  her  miniature,  and  Lucy  to  form  intricate  bows  and 
knots  of  her  bonnet-strings.  At  last  she  said  : 

"  Did  you  know  that  Mr.  Deming  was  going  to  the 
war  ?" 

"  Why,  no  !"  looking  up  in  surprise* 

"  I  'spose  not ;  you  have  been  so  absorbed  in  the  society 
of  one  person  that  you've  no  idea  what  has  become  of  the 
rest  of  the  world." 

"  But  you  know  that  he's  been  betwixt  New  London 
and  New  Haven  off  and  on  all  winter.  He  got  here  the 
night  that  General  Washington  did,  and  as  they  are  ac 
quainted,  went  over  at  once  to  see  him.  He  came  back 
resolved  to  join  the  army.  They  need  every  man  now  they 
can  get.  He's  received  a  lieutenant's  commission  since  the 
General  reached  New  York." 

"  I'm  glad  and  sorry.  Lawyer  Deming  is  a  noble  young 
man ;  I  hope  no  harm  will  come  to  him." 

Lucy  tossed  her  bonnet  on  the  floor  impatiently,  and 
muttered  something  to  the  effect  that  if  folks  would  go  to 
war  they  must  expect  to  take  the  consequences. 

Grace  looked  up  in  astonishment  at  this  speech,  for  it 
implied  that  Lucy  was  both  selfish  and  hard-hearted,  and 
she  was  neither.  A  suspicion  suddenly  flashed  into  her 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR   FATHERS.  lt)5 

mind,  followed  almost  immediately  by  conviction,  as  a  thou 
sand  little  corroborative  events  came  to  mind.  Her  heart 
yearned  over  her  friend,  but  she  could  do  the  incorrigible 
little  puss  no  good  until  she  had  probed  the  matter  to  the 
bottom. 

"  Lucy,  how  can  you  speak  so  of  Mr.  Deming  ?  Supposing 
he  should  be  shot  in  this  war,  how  you  must  regret  it !" 

The  watchful  eyes  saw  Lucy  wince  a  little.  Then  she 
looked  up  indifferent  and  defiant. 

"  Well,  what's  that  to  me  if  he  is  shot,  Grace  Palmer, 
I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Because,  Lucy,"  leaning  forward  and  laying  her  hand 
on  her  friend's  arm,  and  speaking  in  soft,  steady  tones,  "it 
must  be  something  to  any  woman's  heart  to  have  her  best 
friend  shot  down  on  the  battle-field." 

"  Who  said  he  was  my  best  friend  ?"  exclaimed  Lucy, 
with  a  rush  of  blushes.  Then  she  suddenly  broke  down 
and  sobbed  out :  "  I  wouldn't  have  believed,  Grac€  Palmer, 
that  you'd  make  fun  of  me  in  this  way." 

Grace  drew  closer  to  her  friend. 

"  I  wasn't  making  fun  of  you,  dear  girl,  but  I  wanted  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  because  I  thought  you  might  be  doing  a 
great  wrong  to  yourself  and  to  another." 

There  was  no  use  of  trying  any  airs  or  evasions  with 
Grace.  She  went  right  to  the  point  in  such  a  straightfor 
ward  yet  tender  way,  that  it  broke  down  all  the  barriers 
of  Lucy's  pride  and  self-consciousness.  She  sank  down  at 
Grace's  feet  and  hid  her  head  in  her  friend's  lap,  stammering 
out  in  a  very  humble  manner  that  she  was  "  unhappy — 
dreadfully  so !" 

"  You've  done  wrong,  I'm  afraid,  Lucy,"  stroking  the 
bright  hair. 


166  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

It  cost  Lu^cy  a  struggle  to  admit  it,  but  she  was  a  good 
deal  bumbled  now. 

"  Tell  me?"  said  Grace,  bending  down  closer  to  the  hid 
den  face. 

It  came  out  little  by  little,  but  by  dint  of  some  question 
ing  and  a  silence  at  the  right  time  Grace  got  at  the  whole 
truth  of  the  matter.  It  appeared  that  Lucy  had  for  some 
time  a  suspicion,  which  nearly  amounted  to  certainty,  that 
the  young  lawyer  was  interested  in  her,  and  she — the  ac 
knowledgment  stuck  in  her  throat — "liked  him  better  than 
any  gentleman  whom  she  had  ever  seen." 

And  then,  she  "  didn't  know  how  it  was,"  a  spirit  of  per- 
verseness  had  taken  possession  of  her,  and  as  sure  as  Mr. 
Deming  was  by,  she  was  ready  to  flirt  with  any  of  the 
young  officers  who  stopped  at  the  tavern,  though  she  had 
an  intuition  that  it  gave  him  pain  ;  but  this  thought  only 
stimulated  her  to  go  on  from  l>ad  to  worse,  lavishing  her 
smiles  and  pretty  woman's  ways  and  arts  on  those  for 
whom  she  cared  nothing  in  the  world. 

"I  don't  know  how  it  was,  Grace;  I  believe  the  devil 
entered  into  my  heart."  And  in  her  earnestness  and 
remorse  she  forgot  and  lifted  up  her  flushed  face. 

"  I'm  afraid  he  did,  Lucy." 

"  Well,"  dropping  her  head  again,  "  1  used  often  to  be 
sorry  by  the  next  day,  and  my  heart  would  ache  when  Mr. 
Deming  looked  so  grave ;  and  mother,  who  never  suspected 
what  I  felt  almost  certain  of,  would  scold  me  for  '  carrying 
on'  after  the  fashion  I  did.  But  the  next  time  the  tempta 
tion  came  I  was  as  bad  as  ever.  You  see,  Grace,  it  was 
very  pleasant  to  have  all  the  young  officers  admiring  me 
and  courting  my  society,  and  then  to  have  Mr.  Deming 
see  it." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  167 

"  I  don't  doubt  about  the  admiration,  Lucy ;  ^but  never 
theless  you  were  wrong." 

"  I  knew  it  all  the  time ;  but  things  have  gone  on  in  this 
way  until  Mr.  Deming  came  up  from  a  visit  to  Bridgeport. 
Day  before  yesterday  you  know  he  was  over  here  to  see 
Mr.  Dudley,  and  when  he  returned  late  in  the  afternoon  I 
sat  all  alone  by  the  window  finishing  up  a  pair  of  mittens 
for  Nathaniel.  Mr.  Deming  came  in  and  took  a  chair  by 
me." 

"  '  Do  you  know  that  I  have  concluded  to  go  to  the  war, 
Miss  Lucy  ?'  he  asked. 

"My  heart  gave  a  great  bound ;  but  then  that  old  spirit 
of  wilfulness  came  over  me,  and  I  just  said  as  indifferent 
as  possible  : 

"  '  Are  you  really  going,  Mr.  Deming  ?' 

"  He  didn't  answer  for  a  moment ;  then  he  took  up  one 
of  the  mittens  that  I  had  finished : 

"  'May  I  ask  who  it  is  for?' 

"  '  Oh,  certainly  ;  for  Nathaniel.' 

V  '  How  I  wish  that  I  had  a  sister  or  somebody  else  to 
knit  me  a  pair  of  mittens.  And  yet  I  shouldn't  care  for 
them  unless  another  gift  went  with  them.'  This  last  was 
added  in  lower  tones. 

"  I  knew  just  what  he  meant,  but  I  was  determined  that 
lie  shouldn't  see  that  I  did,  and  I  kept  on  knitting  with 
out  one  word.  At  last  he  spoke  again  : 

"  '  Miss  Lucy,  forgive  me — I  am  very  bold — will  you 
knit  me  a  pair  of  mittens  ?' 

"  What  do  you  think  I  did,  Grace  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Lucy." 

"I  just  answered  in  the  coolest  possible  way:  'I 
don't  believe  that  I  shall  have  time  if  you  leave  soon, 


168  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

because  I've  promised  the  next  pair  to  Captain  Mor- 
gan.'  " 

"  Oh,  Lucy !" 

"  I  was  not  so  bad  as  my  words,  Grace.  And  when  Mr. 
Deming  rose  up  a  moment  later,  looking  so  hurt,  I  longed 
to  call  him  back,  but  my  pride  wouldn't  let  me.  I've  been 
miserable  ever  since." 

"  And  this  is  all  ?" 

"  Yes ;  we've  only  exchanged  a  few  commonplace  re 
marks  since ;  and  he  goes  to-morrow,  and  likely  as  not  I 
shall  never  see  him  again  !" 

Here  there  followed  a  storm  of  tears  which  shook  the 
now  thoroughly  humbled  little  beauty  from  head  to  foot. 
Grace  saw  that  this  was  the  time,  while  Lucy's  heart  was 
softened  and  her  pride  held  in  check  by  this  impending 
separation,  to  try  the  effect  of  counsel  and  persuasion  on 
the  wayward  girl.  She  adjured  her,  for  the  sake  of  her 
own  future  peace  and  that  of  John  Deming,  not  to  let  the 
matter  end  thus,  assuring  her  she  could  expect  neither  hap 
piness  nor  blessing  on  her  life  if  she  tampered  with  a  true 
and  manly  love;  and  she  moreover  painted  such  a  picture 
of  Lucy's  remorse  when  absence,  or  it  might  be  death,  had 
sealed  the  lips  of  the  man  who  loved  her,  that  the  little 
maiden  was  thoroughly  melted,  and  solemnly  promised 
that  she  would  not  sleep  that  night — the  last  which  the 
young  lawyer  would  pass  at  the  tavern — without  doing  all 
that  was  in  her  power  to  promote  an  understanding  betwixt 
them  ;  and  she  parted  at  last  from  her  friend  with  a  warm 
embrace  and  a — 

"  Grace,  I  do  believe  you're  an  angel !" 

That  evening  the  young  lawyer  sat  alone  by  the  great 
birch-wood  fire  in  the  old  tavern  sitting-room.  The  flames 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  169 

were  attractive  as  they  spun  their  red  skeins  up  the 
great  pyramid  of  logs — for  the  day  had  been  warm  and 
the  fire  recently  lighted — but  the  lawyer  seemed  to  find 
very  little  satisfaction  in  their  contemplation ;  his  brow 
was  moody  and  troubled,  and  he  tapped  the  hearth  with 
his  foot  nervously.  Somebody  who  had  come  in  very 
noiselessly  said  suddenly  at  his  side  : 

"  Here  are  a  pair  of  mittens,  Mr.  Deming,  that  I  have 
been  knitting  for  you."  And  pretty  Lucy  Trueman  stood 
smiling  and  blushing  before  him. 

His  brow  suddenly  cleared  up  ;  he  took  the  mittens  and 
the  soft,  plump  hand  which  bestowed  them. 

"  Thank  you,  Lucy ;  but  you  know  what  I  said  when  I 
asked  for  them — that  I  should  not  want  the  mittens  unless 
something  else  accompanied  them.  Do  you  know  what  I 
meant?" 

"  How  should  I,  Mr.  Deming  ?"  looking  with  sweet 
demureness  in  the  flames. 

"  That '  something'  meant  the  heart  of  the  giver.  Lucy, 
must  I  give  the  mittens  back  ?" 

Her  answer  came  a  moment  later,  low  and  shaken  : 

"You  may  keep  the  mittens,  Mr.  Deming." 

She  was  drawn  up  to  his  heart,  then,  with  a  blessing 
solemn  for  its  deep  tenderness.  All  of  which,  and  much 
more,  Grace  learned  the  next  day  from  Lucy's  own  lips 
sitting  in  the  chamber  that  looked  to  the  south. 

8 


170  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  year  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-six  was  closing 
darkly  enough  over  our  country.  Congress  during  the 
summer  had  cut  off  every  hope  of  compromise  or  a  peace 
ful  solution  of  difficulties  betwixt  the  mother  country  and 
her  Colonies  by  a  resolution  which  declared  them  free  and 
independent  States — a  resolution  passed  unanimously,  and 
under  circumstances  which  render  that  glorious  event  one 
of  those  acts  of  solemn  and  sublime  patriotism  which 
challenge  the  admiration  of  the  world. 

It  was  just  at  the  time  when  the  war  in  Canada,  after 
incredible  hardships  and  sacrifice,  had  sustained  a  disas 
trous  defeat ;  for  with  the  spring,  Great  Britain  had  poured 
the  flower  of  her  army  and  the  best  of  her  officers  into 
that  province  to  overwhelm  the  worn-out,  scantily  clothed, 
and  suffering  troops  who,  notwithstanding,  held  possession 
of  it.  The  Declaration  of  Independence  occurred,  too,  at 
a  time  when  the  British  were  making  every  effort  to  gain 
possession  of  New  York  and  the  Hudson  river — when  their 
men-of-war  lay  frowning  in  the  harbor  of  New  York,  and 
their  "  tents  whitened  the  hills  of  Staten  Island." 

It  occurred,  too,  just  at  that  moment  when  the  dismayed 
nation  first  learned  the  extent  of  the  disaffection  in  its 
heart  by  the  discovery  of  that  foul  treason  which  lurked 
even  in  Washington's  body-guard,  and  extended  i^s  ramifi 
cations  throughout  the  country.  And  yet,  in  the  midst  of 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  171 

all  this  fear  and  peril,  the  Congress  calmly  discussed,  with 
closed  doors,  that  question  of  which  John  Adams  so  truly- 
said  : — "  A  greater  could  never  be  debated  among  men." 

The  joyous  peal  from  the  old  bell  in  the  steeple  of  the 
State-House  proclaimed  to  the  waiting,  breathless  throng,  the 
blessed  tidings  that  "British  domination  was  over,"  though 
the  patriots  who  signed  that  declaration  knew  well  the 
price  they  must  pay  to  maintain  it — that  for  this  the  noblest 
blood  of  the  world  must  flow  in  rivers — that  the  land  must 
be  ravaged  and  its  homes  desolated  ;  but  the  fathers  counted 
not  their  lives  dear  unto  them  for  their  country's  sake. 

And  if  any  tenderness  or  regret  for  the  motherland  still 
lingered  in  the  hearts  of  the  American  people,  it  seemed  as 
if  the  course  of  the  British  king  and  parliament  during 
this  year  must  extinguish  it.  To  the  everlasting  honor  of 
the  States-General  of  Holland  be  it  written,  that,  when  the 
English  government  applied  to  that  nation  for  troops  to 
assist  in  subjugating  the  Colonies  her  wrongs  had  at  last 
roused  into  resistance,  the  nation  refused  to  furnish  them ; 
but  the  government  was  more  successful  with  the  princes 
of  Germany.  They  were  subsidized  to  furnish  troops  for 
the  British  army,  and  besides  this,  were  to  be  paid  by  Eng 
land  seven  pounds  four  shillings  and  four  pence  sterling  for 
every  soldier  furnished  by  them,  and  as  much  more  for  every 
one  slain.  "We  cannot  conceive  of  tke  amazement  and 
horror  which  thrilled  every  heart  when  the  American 
people  first  learned  that  these  ignorant,  brutal  foreign 
mercenaries,  who  had  become  familiar  with  all  that  is 
fearful  in  scenes  of  bloodshed  among  the  sanguinary  wars 
of  "  Frederick  the  Great,"  had  been  hired  by  the  British 
government  to  BUTCHER  them. 

No  wonder  that  our  fathers  and  our  mothers,  trusting  to 


172  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

the  God  of  battles,  resolved  to  fight  to  the  death  rather 
than  become  the  slaves  which  submission  would  now  have 
proved  them. 

Yet  there  were  many  men  in  Parliament  who  lifted  up 
their  voices  against  this  foul  act,  who  pleaded  for  the  fair 
fame  of  England  and  for  the  honor  of  her  name  among 
the  nations,  that  she  would  not  disgrace  herself  by  a  deed 
so  atrocious  that  the  civilized  world  must  shudder  at  it. 

But  Edmund  Burke,  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  the  Earl  of 
Coventry,  and  many  other  noble  men  who  bore  testimony, 
against  the  sin  and  shame  of  England's  hiring  "  men  trained 
to  bloodshed  by  Continental  butchers"  to  slay  the  people 
of  her  own  language  and  religion,  did  not  prevail  over  the 
power  of  a  ministry  leagued  against  our  rights  and  liberties. 
The  British  government  stained  itself  with  this  disgraceful 
deed — in  what  way,  Long  Island,  White  Plains,  and  the 
ravished  Jerseys  make  answer ! 

This  year  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-six  was  the 
most  critical  one  of  the  war.  The  country  had  not  yet 
learned  faith  in  the  Commander-in-Chief  of  its  armies.  Lee 
and  Gage  were  plotting  to  supersede  him  or  be  invested 
with  separate  commands;  even  Reed,  his  trusted  friend 
and  counsellor,  had  placed  his  confidence  in  another;  the 
army  had  suffered  a  series  of  defeats. 

The  British  held  possession  of  New  York.  Fort  Wash 
ington  had  fallen,  and  he  whose  name  it  bore  had  stood  on 
an  opposite  hill  and  watched  the  dreadful  conflict,  until  at 
last  he  bowed  his  head  and  wept  like  a  child ;  the  sight 
was  too  terrible  for  that  brave,  true  heart,  as  his  men  lifted 
up  their  hands  and  begged  for  mercy  of  the  brutal  Hes 
sians,  who  could  not  understand  a  word,  and  who  an 
swered  by  plunging  their  bayonets  into  their  helpless  foes. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  173 

They  did  the  work  which  they  had  been  hired  to  do  well ! 
Had  not  England  paid  thirty-six  dollars  apiece  for  them  ! 

And  then  came  the  autumn  flight  of  the  American  army 
through  the  Jerseys,  one  of  the  greatest  feats  of  general 
ship  which  history  ever  recorded ;  but  none  could  suspect 
this  then,  as  that  poorly  clothed,  scantily  fed  army  marked 
its  path  through  the  first  winter  snows  of  New  Jersey  by 
the  blood-prints  of  its  barefooted  soldiery. 

The  most  sanguine  could  see  neither  help  nor  hope ; 
unless  God  came  with  His  right  arm  bared  for  the  help 
of  the  land,  its  sun  must  speedily  set  in  a  darkness  deeper 
than  the  December  night  in  which  the  year  was  dying.  It 
was  almost  the  New  Year,  and  then — but  Grace  Palmer's 
letter  shall  tell  what  tidings  came  : 

"  Now  praise,  and  honor,  and  thanksgiving  to  the  Lord 
our  God,  for  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously  ! 

"  Oh,  Edward,  I  feel  to-day  as  though  I  could  sing  the 
song  of  Miriam,  as  she  sang  it  to  the  sound  of  the  timbrels 
on  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea ! 

"  We  have  heard  the  good  tidings  of  Christmas  night — 
of  the  surprise  and  surrender  at  Trenton,  a  little  after 
dawn,  of  a  thousand  prisoners  carried  over  the  Delaware ! 
And  while  I  write  the  bells  are  ringing,  and  the  bonfires 
are  kindling,  and  the  people  are  holding  a  jubilee  over  the 
good  news  which  the  stage  brought  in  to-night ! 

"It  was  so  unexpected,  too,  for  we  have  been  in  the 
dark  waters  for  many  days ;  and  I  am  ashamed  to  say 
that  hope  and  faith  had  deserted  many  hearts ;  but  not 
mine,  dear  Edward,  for  I  have  believed  and  not  doubted 
for  my  country  from  the  beginning.  You  will  want  to 
know  just  how  we  learned  the  news ;  it  was  in  this  wise : 


174  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  I  had  just  finished  my  day's  spinning,  and  put  away 
the  wheel;  mother  was  busy  carding  some  wool  by  the 
fireplace ;  and  father,  who  had  been  reading  the  weekly 
newspaper,  put  it  down  with  a  sigh  and  took  off  his  spec 
tacles. 

"  '  Isn't  there  any  good  tidings  from  the  Jerseys,  father  ?' 
asked  mother,  interpreting  the  sigh. 

" '  Not  a  thing,  mother.  The  enemy's  got  New  York 
city  and  the  Jerseys  in  their  tender  mercies,  and  Cornwallis 
thinks  his  work  is  done,  and  is  about  embarking  for  Eng 
land.  It's  evident  enough  to  me  that  General  Howe  is 
only  waiting  for  the  river  to  freeze  afore  he  pushes  on  to 
Philadelphia.' 

"  At  that  moment  there  was  a  hasty  knock  at  the  kitchen 
door,  and  before  anybody  could  answer  it,  to  our  great 
amazement  and  mother's  infinite  confusion  Parson  Willetts 
walked  in.  I  saw  at  once,  by  the  old  gentleman's  face, 
that  something  had  stirred  him  out  of  his  usual  calm.  He 
shook  hands  with  father,  and  declined  the  offered  chair 
with  a  hasty  wave  of  his  hand  that  dismissed  all  ceremony. 

"  '  No,  Deacon  Palmer,  I  can't  sit  down — thank  you.  I 
only  stopped  in  to  inquire  if  you'd  heard  the  news,  and  if 
not,  to  be  the  bearer  of  it,  as  I  was  going  by.' 

"  We  were  all  alive  with  interest. 

"  '  It's  good  tidings,  then  ?'  asked  father,  for  the  minis 
ter's  manner  betrayed  as  much  as  this. 

"'Glorious  tidings,  sir.  Praise  the  Lord,'  striking  his 
heavy  staff  on  the  floor.  '  We've  had  a  victory,  Deacon 
Palmer !' 

"  '  Where  ?'  asked  one  voice.  '  How  ?'  asked  another. 
I  don't  know  whether  it  was  mine  or  mother's.  And  the 
minister  told  us  in  a  few  sentences  the  whole  matter — 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  175 

of  our  troops  crossing  the  Delaware  in  the  darkness — of  the 
long,  weary  night-march  in  the  sleet  and  storm  to  Trenton 
— of  the  blow  struck  there — of  the  panic  and  confusion 
among  the  Hessians — and  of  their  surrender. 

"Mother  and  I  cried  like  little  children  when  we  heard 
it,  and  J  don't  think  either  Parson  or  Deacon  behaved 
much  better  than  we  did.  The  minister  wouldn't  stay 
longer ;  but  before  he  got  to  the  gate  somebody  else  came 
with  the  good  news,  and  such  an  evening  as  we  have  had — 
friends  and  neighbors  crowding  in  to  congratulate  and 
rejoice  with  each  other!  Even  now  while  I  write  it,  the 
tidings  seem  too  good  to  be  true.  These  men,  whose  name 
has  been  a  sound  of  dread  and  terror  to  all  of  us — these 
men  hired  to  butcher  us  by  the  king  and  Parliament  of 
England,  are  now  our  prisoners  of  war.  Truly,  it  is  a  time 
for  us  to  rejoice  arid  give  thanks ! 

"  Dear  Edward,  it  is  close  on  midnight,  but  the  stage 
leaves  a  little  before  sunrise,  and  it  must  not  go  without 
taking  you  my  good  cheer.  It  is  as  well  with  me  as  it 
can  be  without  you,  and  though  it  carries  an  unutterable 
yearning  for,  and  longing  to  hear  from  you  every  day,  my 
heart  is  brave  and  steady. 

"  I  shall  send  you  next  week,  by  Captain  Powell,  whose 
furlough  expires  then,  a  dozen  pair  of  stockings  and  half 
as  many  of  mittens.  The  wool  was  furnished  by  our  own 
sheep,  and  it  was  carded,  and  spun,  and  knit  by  the  hands 
that  write  thess  words — a  fact  which  I  love  to  think  will 
make  the  articles  of  more  value  in  your  eyes ;  and  be  sure 
every  stitch  was  set  with  a  loving  thought  of  you. 

"The  books  which  you  ordered  from  Philadelphia  have 
reached  me;  oh,  Edward,  for  these  I  have  no  words  to 
thank  you  ;  but  through  the  long,  lonesome  days  and  eve- 


176  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUK  FATHERS. 

nings  of  this  winter  they  will  be  the  next  best  thing  to 
having  you  with  me. 

"  We  are  all  in  comfortable  health,  and  the  war  keeps 
all  our  hands  busy — spinning,  knitting,  and  sewing  for 
those  who  are  fighting  for  us  and  for  our  homes. 

"  Mother  has  prepared  several  bundles  of  linen  for  the 
wounded,  and  whenever  it's  needed  we  have  more.  And 
now,  Edward,  for  my  sake  take  care.  Do  not  be  rash  in 
the  fight,  where  I  know  you  will  be  foremost  ;  and  for  the 
rest,  the  God  who  loves  you  with  a  love  deeper  and  tender- 
6r  than  mine,  even,  cover  your  head  in  the  day  of  battle. 
And  for  my  country — my  beautiful,  beloved  country — my 
hopes  are  alike  strong  in  the  day  of  defeat  or  of  victory. 
I  believe,  as  I  believe  in  you,  Edward  Dudley,  that  her 
independence  shall  be  acknowledged  by  the  merciless  power 
which  now  seeks  to  crush  out  her  life ;  that  the  bells  of  our 
triumph  shall  yet  be  rung  on  the  hills  and  in  the  valleys, 
filling  the  land  with  rejoicing. 

"  How  far  off  that  day  dwells  in  the  future  is  not  given 
us  to  know,  but  it  is  coming  I  Through  what  trial  and  sacri 
fice  we  must  walk  to  it  no  man  can  tell ;  but  we  have  an 
apostle  of  our  liberties — a  man  ordained  of  God  to  lead 
our  nation  to  its  promised  land  of  peace — George  Wash 
ington  ! 

"  And  now,  Edward,  over  the  long,  dreary  miles  which 
lie  between  us,  wrapped  in  woollens  of  snow ;  over  the 
dark  waters,  above  which,  without  sound  of  anvil  or  ham 
mer,  the  winter  has  builded  its  roof  of  ice,  I  send  to  you, 
with  this  letter,  the  blessing  and  the  love,  unutterable  and 
unchangeable,  in  the  heart  of 

"GRACE  PALMER." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHEES.  177 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MAJOR  DUDLEY  read  this  letter  by  a  camp  fire  on  the 
"gloomy  banks  of  the  Assinpink,"  on  the  second  evening 
of  the  New  Year — that  evening  which,  notwithstanding 
the  recent  victory,  was  the  darkest  that  had  ever  closed 
around  the  American  army. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  black,  narrow  stream,  lay 
the  mighty  army  of  Cornwallis,  waiting  only  for  the  sun 
rise  of  another  morning  to  commence  an  engagement,  of 
whose  result  there  could  be  no  possible  doubt ;  for  how 
could  the  small  army  of  worn-out,  half-starved  men,  make 
any  stand  against  the  overwhelming  numbers  of  the  best 
soldiers  of  Europe,  which  lay  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  ? 

"  Had  it  come  to  this,  after  all  his  toil,  and  labor,  and 
sacrifice  1"  thought  the  Commander-in-Chief,  as  he  paced 
the  bank  of  the  Assinpink,  and  saw  the  camp-fires  of  the 
enemy  burning  in  the  distance. 

Would  the  next  sun,  as  it  rose  slowly  up  the  east,  be 
the  signal  that  the  sun  of  American  liberty  had  set  for  ever  I 
Eetreat  was  impossible  now,  for  the  Delaware  lay  frozen 
behind  him.  The  British  and  American  armies  confronted 
each  other  at  last,  and  the  general  action  which  Washing 
ton  had,  by  masterly  manoeuvring,  and  countermarching, 
and  retreating,  so  long  avoided,  was  at  last  become  inevi 
table  ! 

It  was  one  of  those  terrible  crises  which  shake  a  man's 

8* 


178  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

hope  and  faith  to  the  centre.  Washington  looked  on  all 
sides,  and  there  was  none  to  help  or  deliver.  Was  there 
none,  oh  Hand,  that  guided  the  Mayflower  in  its  path  over 
the  stormy  seas — was  there  none,  oh  angels,  who  watched 
breathless  on  the  winter's  day  when  she  cast  anchor  at  the 
lonely  harbor  of  Plymouth  ? 

There  broke  suddenly  across  the  darkness  a  gleam  of  hope. 
A  plan  suggested  itself  like  an  inspiration,  and  so  it  was. 
The  enemy  must  by  this  time  mostly  have  withdrawn  from 
Princeton  in  order  to  join  Lord  Cornwallis  at  Trenton,  and 
their  baggage  and  stores  must  lie  weakly  guarded  at  Bruns 
wick.  What  an  achievement  it  would  be  to  march  silently 
away  in  the  darkness,  come  suddenly  upon  Princeton,  cap 
ture  the  stores  there,  and  then  push  on  to  Brunswick  ! 

The  Quaker  road  was  newly  broken  and  rugged,  it  is 
true,  and  the  night  was  soft  as  though  it  belonged  to  the 
late  April ;  but  the  deep  mire  would  render  the  roads  im 
passable  for  men  or  baggage.  Yet,  even  as  Washington 
pondered,  a  cold  blast  swept  full  against  his  face,  and  lo ! 
the  wind  had  changed  to  the  north.  The  General  hesitated 
no  longer  ;  he  summoned  a  council  of  war. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Major?"  asked  Greene,  paus 
ing  a  moment,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  young  officer,  who 
had  folded  up  his  letter  and  stood  thoughtfully  before  a 
camp  fire. 

Major  Dudley  looked  up.  "  I  was  musing  on  many 
things,  and  amongst  them,  our  situation  this  night.  Unless 
God  comes  forth  to  our  help,  General  Greene,  to-morrow 
will  be  the  saddest  day  that  ever  dawned  on  America !" 

"  We're  in  tight  quarters — there's  no  denying  it.  I'm  on 
my  way  to  General  Mercer's  quarters,  for  our  Commander 
has  summoned  a  council  of  war  there,"  and  the  General 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  179 

slipped  his  arm  into  the  Major's,  and  they  walked  along 
together,  conversing  in  low  tones  of  the  gloomy  prospects 
before  them. 

When  the  officers  parted,  Edward  Dudley  glanced  down 
tenderly  on  the  letter  which  he  still  carried  in  his  hand. 

"  Sweet  little  patriot,"  murmured  the  young  man ;  "  God 
send  that  you  may  be  as  true  a  prophetess !" 

History  has  kept  a  faithful  record  of  the  result  of  that 
council  of  war  on  the  banks  of  the  Assinpink.  The  pro 
position  of  Washington  was  met  with  instant  and  eager 
concurrence  from  all  his  officers.  The  camp  was  broken 
up.  Preparations  were  rapidly  made  for  one  of  those  swift 
and  silent  night  marches  in  which  the  American  army  had 
become  so  expert,  and  which  they  so  frequently  accom 
plished  as  though  by  magic. 

Nothing  was  left  undone  to  deceive  the  enemy.  The 
camp-fires  were  kept  burning  bright  through  the  darkness, 
sentries  and  guards  were  relieved  punctually,  and  men 
were  ordered  to  keep  toiling  until  daybreak  at  the  trenches, 
and  then  to  hasten  after  the  retreating  army,  which  stole 
softly  away  in  the  dead  of  the  night.  We  have  all  read  of 
that  march  from  Trenton.  We  know  that  the  brave  little 
army  toiled  slowly  along  the  half-broken  road,  with  the 
stumps  of  the  newly  felled  trees  impeding  their  progress, 
and  that  the  sun  was  coming  over  the  eastern  hills,  its  first 
golden  beams  seeming  to  the  eyes  of  the  wearied  soldiers 
the  signal  of  good  cheer  sent  to  them  from  Heaven,  when 
the  army  reached  the  bridge  over  Stony  Brook.  The  bri 
gade  of  General  Mercer,  Washington's  old  friend  and  com 
panion  in  the  French  wars,  was  detached  here  to  continue 
along  the  brook  until  it  should  arrive  at  the  main  road  to 
Princeton,  which  he  was  to  secure,  and  destroy  the  bridge, 


180  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

so  as  to  intercept  the  passage  of  fugitives ;  but  as  General 
Mercer  spurred  eagerly  away  on  his  beautiful  grey  horse, 
he  little  suspected  that  his  last  hour  had  come — that  he 
should  never  hear  again  the  voice  of  his  beloved  Com 
mander.  A  few  moments  later  the  British  colonel,  who 
had  just  left  Princeton  at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  caught 
sight  of  the  glittering  of  arms  along  the  Quaker  road,  and 
not  doubting  that  he  had  come  upon  some  flying  portion 
of  the  army  routed  by  Cornwallis,  and  not  perceiving  the 
number  of  American  forces,  he  faced  about  to  give  them 
battle,  concealing  his  return  march  in  the  woods,  until,  after 
again  crossing  Stony  Brook,  he  came  full  upon  the  van  of 
Mercer's  brigade.  There  was  a  desperate  rush  of  both 
parties  to  reach  the  rising  ground  behind  the  Quaker's 
dwelling.  The  Americans  gained  it  first,  and  of  the  brief 
and  desperate  battle  which  followed,  history  tells  better 
than  our  pen  can. 

We  know  what  brave  deeds  for  song  and  story  were 
done  in  that  morning's  sunrise ;  how  General  Mercer's  horse 
fell  under  him  with  the  first  charge ;  how  the  brave  officer 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  rallied  his  men  until  he  was  felled 
to  the  earth  by  a  blow  from  the  butt-end  of  a  musket ; 
how,  rising  once  more,  and  defending  himself  with  his 
sword,  he  was  surrounded  and  bayoneted  over  and  over, 
until  his  blood  dabbled  the  faded  grass  and  he  was  left  for 
dead  on  the  field. 

And  at  this  moment  Washington,  who  had  galloped 
ahead  of  his  troops,  burst  in  sight,  and  the  whole  scene  lay 
before  him.  The  British  saw  the  snowy  horse  and  the 
stately  figure  sweep  by  heedless  of  their  galling  fire. 

The  brigade,  whose  commander  lay  ghastly  on  the  field, 
•aw  the  waving  of  Washington's  hat,  and  heard  the  cheer- 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUK  FATHERS.  181 

ing  of  his  voice,  as  he  urged  the  troops  on.  They  rallied 
at  the  sound  of  that  well-known  voice,  and  the  next  mo 
ment  the  loud  shouts  of  the  Virginians,  as  they  emerged 
from  the  woods  and  rushed  to  their  help,  told  that  the  tide 
of  battle  was  turning. 

And  then  the  conflict  grew  more  desperate.  Amid  the 
flashing  of  arms  and  the  columns  of  smoke  was  still  seen 
that  white  horse  and  that  stately  figure,  dashing  wherever 
the  battle  was  hottest  and  the  balls  of  the  enemy  rained 
darkly  around  it. 

No  wonder  that  the  young  Irish  aide-de-camp,  seeing  that 
beloved  face  vanish  in  the  black  garments  of  smoke,  drew 
his  hat  over  his  eyes ;  he  believed  his  commander  had 
fallen  ! 

But  when  he  looked  again  the  horse  and  his  rider 
emerged  from  the  smoke,  the  enemy  was  giving  way, 
and  the  ardent  Colonel" spurred  up  to  his  General's  side 
with  but  one  thought  in  his  heart,  and  that  was  on  his 
lips: 

"  Thank  God!  your  Excellency  is  safe!" 

The  latent  fire  in  the  strong  heart  burst  forth  : 

"  Away,  my  dear  Colonel,  and  .bring  up  the  troops. 
The  day  is  ours !"  and  lo !  in  the  distance,  were  the  British 
troops,  with  heavy  loss  and  in  full  retreat,  to  join  Lord 
Cornwallis  at  Trenton. 

And  that  early  morning,  which  friend  and  foe  alike 
believed  must  witness  the  defeat  of  the  American  army, 
beheld  instead  a  hundred  British  lying  dead  on  the  field, 
and  fourteen  officers  and  nearly  three  hundred  men  taken 
prisoners ! 

"  Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us,  0  Lord,  but  unto  Thy 
name,  be  the  glory  given !"  murmured  Major  Dudley,  who 


182  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

had  been  in  the  fight  where  Grace  said  he  would  be — fore 
most — as  he  lifted  his  cap  and  wiped  the  hot  perspiration 
from  his  brow  as  he  thought  of  the  victory. 

At  that  moment  somebody  addressed  him,  and  turning, 
one  of  the  privates  from  Captain  Trueman's  company 
requested  him  to  come  to  the  aid  of  that  officer,  who  had 
been  wounded.  Edward  Dudley  thought  of  Nathaniel's 
mother. 

"  Is  he  hurt  seriously  ?"  he  asked,  dreading  the  reply, 
for  the  two  young  men  were  much  attached  to  each  other. 

"  We  hope  not,  sir ;  we've  carried  him  out  under  a  tree. 
He  seems  faint  from  loss  of  blood." 

Major  Dudley  followed  the  soldier,  and  found  the  Cap 
tain  lying  under  a  tree,  to  which  his  men  had  conveyed 
him.  He  was  conscious,  but  it  was  well  that  Nathaniel's 
mother  was  not  there  to  see  the  face  of  her  boy — white 
almost  as  the  ghastly  faces  on  the  field. 

Edward  kneeled  down  by  his  friend,  who  welcomed  him 
with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Where  are  you  hurt,  Nathaniel  ?"  he  inquired,  anx 
iously. 

"  I  think  a  ball  must  have  struck  my  left  arm ;  I  can't 
move  it." 

A  very  slight  examination  satisfied  the  Major  that  his 
friend's  arm  was  broken  a  little  below  the  elbow. 

"  You  must  be  attended  to  at  once.  We'll  have  you 
removed  to  some  house  and  a  surgeon  procured  imme 
diately." 

"Thank  you,  Dudley,"  and  then  a  flash  of  triumph 
went  over  the  white  young  face.  "  This  is  a  glorious  day 
for  America." 

"  A  glorious  day,  Nathaniel." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  183 

This  was  the  only  comment  Major  Dudley  allowed  him 
self,  as  he  hurried  away  in  quest  of  a  surgeon. 

Captain  Trueman  was  soon  conveyed  to  a  farm-house, 
whose  inmates  treated  him  with  the  greatest  kindness.  A 
surgeon  was  procured,  who  dressed  the  arm,  and  pro 
nounced  the  wound  a  severe  but  not  dangerous  one, 
and  prescribed  rest  and  quiet;  and  Major  Dudley  left 
him  at  last,  assured  that  the  young  officer  was  in  kind 
hands. 

Lord  Cornwallis  had  retired  the  previous  night,  and  with 
that  contempt  for  everything  American  which  has  always 
distinguished  the  English  people  (although  to  this  there 
are  many  and  noble  exceptions),  had  declared  that  he 
should  "  bag  the  fox  in  the  morning." 

No  words  can  surpass  his  astonishment  and  chagrin  when 
he  learned  that  the  General,  whom  he  thus  scorned,  had 
once  more  foiled  him,  and  the  American  army  had  again 
escaped  his  grasp. 

His  lordship  did  not  for  some  time  suspect  the  course 
which  the  troops  had  taken,  but  the  booming  of  cannon  in 
the  direction  of  Princeton  at  last  warned  him. 

lie  broke  up  his  camp  at  Trenton,  and  hurried  away  in 
great  consternation,  for  he  feared  Washington  might  make 
a  descent  upon  his  large  military  stores  at  Brunswick  ;  but 
the  march  of  the  British  troops  was  impeded  at  Stony 
Brook,  for  Washington  had  taken  care  that  the  bridge  here 
should  be  broken,  and  the  enemy  did  not  reach  Brunswick 
until  evening. 

Lord  Cornwallis  found  his  military  stores  safe,  for  the 
tired,  worn-out  troops  whom  Washington  had  led  to  the 
morning's  battle  could  not  make  a  descent  on  Brunswick. 
But  he  had  hurried  them  on,  panting  for  weariness,  so  that 


184:  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

they  dropped  along  the  frozen  roadside,  and  with  difficulty 
the  army  at  last  reached  Morristown. 

So  the  dark  cloud  lifted  itself,  and  the  mourning  was 
changed  to  rejoicing  throughout  the  country. 

The  war  now  wore  a  .triumphant  aspect.  Confidence  in 
the  Commander  of  the  army  took  the  place  of  doubt  and 
jealousy. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  185 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  success  of  Princeton  following  so  close  on  that  of  Tren 
ton,  had  inspired  the  patriot  heart  of  America  with  courage 
and  hope.  There  was  rejoicing  around  the  wide  old  fire 
places  where  the  great  red  pyramids  of  flame  crackled  and 
blazed  through  the  long  winter  evenings ;  but  the  tidings 
which  brought  light  and  gladness  to  so  many  homes 
brought  darknes  and  fear  to  a  few,  and  among  these  latter 
was  the  old  Mill  Tavern  of  Mrs.  Charity  Trueman. 

It  is  true  that  Nathaniel,  thoughtful  for  his  mother  and 
sister,  had  written  briefly  the  day  after  the  battle,  stating 
that  a  ball  had  hit  his  arm,  but  speaking  as  lightly  of  the 
wound  as  he  could,  stating  that  he  expected  to  be  over  it  in 
a  few  days,  and,  at  least,  assuming  the  best  of  spirits  in  his 
letter.  But  the  mother-heart  of  Mrs.  Trueman  was  filled 
with  anxiety  and  yearning,  for  she  had  received  a  fuller 
relation  of  the  wound  Nathaniel  had  received,  from  a  sol 
dier  who  had  been  in  the  battle  and  returned  home. 

Grace  was  making  a  somewhat  prolonged  visit  at  the 
tavern,  for  she  had  been  "  snowed  in  "  the  third  day,  a  cir 
cumstance  upon  which  Mrs.  Trueman  and  her  daughter 
openly  congratulated  themselves,  for  there  was  no  face  so 
welcome  at  the  old  tavern  in  any  time  of  trouble  as  the 
sweet  one  of  the  Deacon's  daughter. 

It  was  a  day  of  wild  storm  and  wind,  dropping  down 
into  a  wilder  night.  Two  miles  off,  the  white  waves  of  the 


186  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

Sound  seethed  and  tossed  themselves  in  a  great,  struggling 
agony,  on  which  the  sky  looked  with  a  white,  patient 
anguish,  and  the  wind  tossed  the  great  sheaves  of  foam  on 
the  shore,  and  then  went  over  the  land,  shrieking  its 
triumph  and  waving  its  white  banners  of  snow. 

"  Oh,  what  an  awful  night !"  exclaimed  Lucy  Trueman, 
as  she  sat  betwixt  Grace  and  her  mother,  before  the  great 
fire  of  walnut  and  birch-wood  in  the  sitting-room  of  the 
tavern. 

The  three  ladies  were  busily  engaged  in  knitting  mittens 
and  socks  ;  for  tidings  of  the  half-clothed  and  suffering 
army  at  Morristown  had  given  a  new  impetus  to  knitting- 
needles  throughout  the  land. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  laying  down  the  heel  she 
was  "  toeing"  off,  "this  storm  must  reach  a  long  ways.  I 
wish  I  could  know  how  that  boy  of  mine  was  feelin'  to 
night."  And  Mrs.  Trueman  bent  lower  and  added  a 
"  forestick "  to  the  cone  of  logs,  in  order  t«  conceal  the 
tears  which  filled  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  he's  doing  well,  you  may  depend,  mother," 
answered  the  daughter,  in  her  cheeriest  tone.  "You  know 
he's  fallen  into  such  good  hands." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Lucy,"  unpinning  her  knitting-sheath, 
for  it  was  time  to  see  about  supper.  "  But  no  hands,  let 
'em  be  ever  so  soft  and  tender,  would  seem  to  my  boy 
like  his  mothers;  and  I'd  walk  five  miles  through  this  snow 
to  carry  him  a  bowl  of  chicken  broth.  How  he  relished  it 
after  he  had  that  attack  of  lung  fever,  Lucy,  and  used  to 
say :  '  There  ain't  a  woman  in  the  wide  world,  mother,  that 
can  come  up  to  you  on  chicken  broth.'  " 

"  You've  got  one  thing  to  comfort  you,  Mrs.  Trueman," 
said  Grace,  looking  up  in  her  sweet,  earnest  way ;  "  it  isn't 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  187 

a  light  tiling  for  a  boy  of  seventeen  to  have  a  captain's 
commission  ;  and  if  he  carries  the  scar  of  his  wound  to  his 
death,  it  will  be  a  fresh  honor  to  Nathaniel  Trueman  all 
the  days  of  his  life." 

The  pleasant  face  of  Mrs.  Trueman  glowed  with  mater 
nal  pride  that  for  the  moment  effaced  all  look  of  pain. 

"  Bless  your  heart,  Grace,"  she  said,  "  you  always 
manage  to  speak  just  the  right  word  in  the  right  place." 

"  That's  because  her  heart  is  in  the  right  place,"  and 
Lucy  leaned  forward  in  her  pretty,  impulsive  way,  and  pat 
ted  Grace  affectionately  on  the  shoulder. 

"  One  thing  my  mind's  bent  on,"  recurring  to  the  sub 
ject  ever  uppermost  in  her  thoughts ;  "  if  I  hear  Natha 
niel's  any  worse,  I  shall  start  for  Princeton." 

"  In  this  weather — why,  mother !"  exclaimed  Lucy,  per 
fectly  aghast. 

"  No  matter  for  that,"  in  a  tone  which  plainly  showed 
that  her  mind  was  made  up  on  the  matter.  "It  would 
drive  me  distracted  to  stay  here  and  think  of  my  boy  lyin' 
away  off  there  with  no  mother's  hand  to  smoothe  his  pillow, 
or  so  much  as  give  him  a  teaspoonful  of  medicine.  I  shall 
take  the  next  stage  if  any  worse  tidings  come." 

"  But,  mother,"  continued  the  deprecatory  voice  of  Lucy, 
"  you'd  certainly  be  blocked  up  and  freeze  to  death.  Why, 
it  would  take  you  a  week  to  get  into  the  Jerseys  in  this 
dead  of  winter." 

Grace  saw  that  argument  or  opposition  only  confirmed 
the  resolution,  so  she  interposed. 

"I  don't  believe  there  will  be  the  least  call  for  you  to 
go,  Mrs.  Trueman.  You  know  what  Mr.  Dudley  wrote, 
that  the  surgeon  said  there  wasn't  the  slightest  danger  of 
fever  if  Nathaniel  would  be  careful,  and  there  was  no 


188  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

doubt  but  he  would  be  able  to  use  his  arm  in  time  as  well 
as  ever." 

It  was  pleasant  to  hear  this  again,  though  it  was  at  least 
the  twentieth  time,  and  turning  the  words  over  in  her 
thoughts,  the  bustling  little  woman  hurried  off  to  prepare 
supper. 

"  Grace,  have  you  heard  anything  about  Richard  Jarvys 
or  his  father  lately?"  asked  Lucy,  when  the  two  were 
alone. 

"  No,"  moving  a  little,  as  though  the  words  hurt  her. 

Lucy  drew  a  little  nearer  and  spoke  lower. 

"  Well,  it's  being  whispered  round  that  the  old  man  is  a 
Long  Island  trader,  and  that  his  son  is  in  the  business  too ! 
They're  being  watched  now,  and  if  they're  discovered 
they'll  have  to  leave  the  place  or  the  roof  won't  be  safe 
over  their  heads." 

"  And  in  that  case,  ours  would  be,  for  a  time  at  least," 
added  Grace. 

"  You're  not  surprised  to  hear  this  ?" 

"  Oh,  no.  I  trust  that  I  do  not  say  in  any  uncharitable 
spirit  that  there  is  hardly  anything  mean  or  base  which,  in 
my  opinion,  Ralph  Jarvys  and  his  son  could  not  be  tempt 
ed  to  do!" 

"  I  can  hardly  keep  in  my  skin,  Grace,"  the  round 
black  eyes  flashing  with  indignation,  "  when  I  think  how 
that  man  is  trying  to  get  your  father  out  of  his  own  house. 
But  there's  one  thing,"  with  a  smile  and  blush  that  said  a 
great  many,  "  he'll  have  to  be  smart  to  get  ahead  of  some 
body  that's  taken  the  matter  into  his  hands." 

Grace's  smile  was  very  bright  and  sympathetic. 

"  Father  comforts  himself  with  that  thought,"  she  said. 
"  lie's  so  much  confidence  in  Lawyer  Deming  that  his  mind 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  189 

is  much  set  at  ease  in  the  matter;  and  then  it  was  left  with 
Mr.  Fuller  in  such  a  way  that  the  matter  will  not  come 
up  before  the  fall  term,  so  we  are  sure  of  our  house  for 
another  summer  at  least ;  and  there  is  no  telling  what  may 
occur  before  that  time." 

"  Still,  the  thought  must  be  a  constant  weight  and  bur 
den  for  you  all  to  carry." 

"  Yes ;  but  we  try  to  leave  it  with  the  one  Heart  strong 
and  tender  enough  to  carry  all  our  burdens." 

"  Dear  Grace,"  bending  forward  with  a  look  half  ten 
der,  half  reverential,  "  I  wish  I  was  as  good  as  you." 

"  That  isn't  wishing  very  much,  Lucy,"  smoothing  the 
black  shining  hair. 

It  was  quite  dark  now,  but  the  red  firelight  filled  the 
room  like  the  waving  of  crimson  banners.  Outside  the 
storm  grew  fiercer  as  the  night  deepened.  The  girls  had 
both  laid  their  work  away  and  sat  together  in  silence,  look 
ing  into  the  fire  and  listening  to  the  cry  of  the  wind  and 
thinking  of  the  absent  and  beloved,  drawn  together  by 
that  sympathy  of  thought.  At  length  Mrs.  Trueman 
bustled  in  with  a  lamp. 

"  Come,  girls,  right  out  to  tea  ;  but  I  thought  we'd  have 
somethin'  that  would  relish  such  a  night  as  this." 

"I'm  sure,  Mrs.  Trueman,  you  never  had  anything  else 
on  any  sort  of  a  night,"  laughed  Grace,  as  she  rose  up. 

At  that  moment  a  thin,  pale  face  was  thrust  close  up  to 
the  window-pane,  and  a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  caught 
and  drank  in  every  object  in  the  old  tavern  sitting-room. 
The  face  vanished,  the  front  door  opened  softly,  and 
stealthy  feet  crossed  the  wide  old  hall ;  then  another  door 
opened. 

"  Mother — Lucy !  do  you  know  who  it  is  ?" 


190  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

The  voice  was  Nathaniel's  ;  but  how  could  it  be  he  at 
such  a  time,  on  such  a  night.  No  wonder  that  the  three 
women  stood  still  with  a  momentary  superstitious  fear  at 
their  hearts  ;  but  the  figure  came  straight  forward. 

"  It's  Nathaniel  Trueman ;  he's  some  right  to  expect  a 
welcome  here,  I  reckon !"  cried  the  hearty,  cheery  voice 
there  was  no  mistaking. 

Mrs.  Trueman  sprang  forward  with  a  cry — not  loud ;  it 
was  burdened  with  too  much  for  that. 

"  My  boy  1  my  pretty,  precious  boy — have  you  come 
back  to  your  mother  ?" 

Such  a  hugging,  and  kissing,  and  shedding  of  tears  on 
all  sides  as  followed ;  for  it  was  indeed  Nathaniel,  looking 
thin  and  worn  enough,  as  they  discovered  at  last  on  hold 
ing  the  light  to  his  face.  He  was  too  ill  for  active  service, 
and  had  obtained  a  furlough.  He  had  travelled  from 
Princeton  by  land  and  water  to  New  Haven,  and  had  left 
there  early  in  the  morning ;  but  the  deep  snow  had  ren 
dered  the  travelling  difficult,  and  the  stage  had  only  just 
got  in. 

"  Oh,  you  darling  boy !"  exclaimed  Lucy,  throwing  her 
arms  about  her  brother  for  the  twentieth  time,  and  giving 
him  a  dozen  rapid  kisses. 

Nathaniel  winced  a  little. 

"  Softly,  softly  ;  there's  a  good  girl  ;  remember  my 
arm!" 

"  How  is  that  arm  now  ?"  asked  his  mother,  as  though 
something  hurt  her,  looking  at  the  sling  in  which  the  sol 
dier  carried  it. 

"  Well,  it  don't  pain  me  as  much  as  at  first,  but  it  won't 
bear  any  touch  yet.  It  wants  just  what  I  do — a  little  of 
your  nursing,  mother." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  191 

Mrs.  Trueman's  look  said  both  he  and  the  arm  would 
have  it. 

"  To  think  how  many,  many  nights  I've  started  up  sud 
denly  out  of  my  sleep  and  said :  '  My  boy's  away  off  on 
the  battle-field !'  and  it  would  seem  more  than  I  could 
bear ;  but  to-night  I  shall  wake  up  and  say  :  '  He's  back 
again ;  my  pretty  boy's  back  again  !'  " 

Mrs.  Trueman  said  this,  smoothing  his  hair  and  adjusting 
his  collar,  for  she  could  not  keep  her  hands  off  from  her 
idol.  The  young  soldier  could  not  speak  for  a  moment. 
When  he  did  it  was  in  blunt  phrase : 

"  Mother,  I'm  hungry." 

"And  supper's  all  ready.  I've  got  what  you  like,  too 
— stewed  oysters  and  chicken  pie." 

"  Those  are  tempting  sounds  to  a  fellow  that's  been  used 
to  army  fare  for  nine  months ;  come  along,  girls,"  but  he 
slipped  his  arm  about  his  mother's  waist. 

There  was  no  happier  table  in  the  land  than  that  one 
around  which  Mrs.  Trueman's  small  family  was  gathered ; 
and  when  the  long  supper  was  over,  they  all  sat  down  by 
the  bright  fire,  and  the  boy-captain  laid  his  beautiful  pale 
face  against  the  cushions  of  the  great  rocking-chair,  and 
while  the  storm  howled  and  shrieked  outside,  he  told  his 
eager  listeners  stories  of  camp  life  in  the  Continental  army 
— stories  at  which  they  sometimes  laughed,  but  oftener 
sobbed  together. 


192  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

ANOTHER  harvest  had  been  gathered  in ;  another  summer 
had  passed.  The  battle  of  Brandywine  had  been  fought  in 
the  early  autumn,  and  at  last,  Lord  Cornwallis  had  entered 
Philadelphia  with  his  army. 

It  was  a  sad  day  for  the  patriot  hearts  in  the  old  city 
when  the  triumphant  pageant  of  the  enemy  swept  along 
the  streets.  They  gazed  on  the  magnificent  procession 
with  hearts  that  failed  them,  as  they  contrasted  the  "splen 
did  legions  of  British  and  Hessian  grenadiers,  the  flashing 
arms,  the  flaming  uniforms,  the  waving  plumes,  the  martial 
music,"  with  that  army  which  had  marched  through  the 
city  a  few  days  previous. 

They  remembered  those  worn  and  haggard  troops,  bare 
footed  and  half  clothed,  as  they  moved  along  the  old 
streets,  the  pale  sharp  faces  telling  their  own  pathetic 
stories  of  suffering  and  sacrifice  to  the  death.  And  now, 
along  the  very  paths  hallowed  by  the  tread  of  those  bared 
feet  came  the  victorious  enemy,  flaunting  their  insolent 
triumph  in  the  face  of  a  people  whose  national  existence 
they  were  striving  to  crush,  and  filling  the  air  with  their 
swelling  strains  of  "  God  save  the  King !" 

Burgoyne  was  still  on  the  Hudson,  and  New  England 
had  poured  in  from  her  harvest-fields  the  flower  of  her 
yeomanry  to  dispute  the  passage  of  the  British  general  to 
Albany. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  193 

The  night  of  which  I  write  was  in  the  opening  of 
October.  The  frosts  were  late  that  year,  and  the  red  scars 
gleamed  only  here  and  there  amid  the  dead  green  of  forest 
and  orchard.  It  was  a  still  night,  the  pulse  of  the  earth 
beating  low  with  the  year's  ripeness ;  the  moon,  large  and 
round  among  her  stars,  looked  down  on  the  face  of  the 
earth ;  and  the  white,  solemn  light  lay  on  every  object. 

About  two  miles  to  the  south  of  the  homestead  of  Deacon 
Palmer  was  a  long  range  of  low  beetling  rocks,  against 
which  the  waters  of  Long  Island  Sound  beat  and  struggled 
with  every  returning  tide.  The  top  of  this  rock  was  covered 
with  low,  dark  pines,  amid  which  the  night  winds  moaned 
and  shivered,  while  on  each  side  lay  a  low  strip  of  yellow 
sand. 

The  tide  was  coming  in,  the  white  surf  rising  and  falling 
like  broken  lilies  on  the  waves  ;  various  sail  were  flashing 
to  and  fro  on  the  Sound,  looking  in  the  moonlight  like 
great  sea-birds  with  silver  wings ;  but  the  largest  of  these, 
a  schooner,  lay  still  about  two  miles  from  the  shore,  from 
which,  before  the  evening  was  late,  a  small  boat  put  off 
suddenly,  made  for  the  land,  and  swept  within  the  black 
shadow  of  the  overhanging  rocks,  which  effectually  con 
cealed  her  from  observation. 

Three  men  debarked  from  the  boat,  made  her  fast,  and 
then  taking  their  oars,  scrambled  swiftly  but  cautiously 
down  on  the  sand.  Two  of  them  were  ordinary  sailors,  in 
shaggy  green  jackets  and  tarpaulins,  while  the  other  was 
evidently  an  officer  of  some  kind,  although  he  wore  a 
citizen's  dress  for  reasons  of  his  own.  This  last  man  looked 
about  thirty.  His  features  were  good,  but  the  face  had 
something  repellent  in  it  to  fine  instincts.  There  was  a 
certain  coarseness,  and  boldness,  and  sensuality  about  the 

9 


194  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

lower  part  of  it ;  and  there  was  a  shrewd,  half  defiant,  and 
half  stealthy  glance  in  the  eyes  when  you  watched  the 
man  narrowly. 

"  Wall,  leftenant,  where's  the  cargo  ?"  said  the  younger 
of  the  sailors,  sweeping  the  shore,  the  rock,  and  the  pines, 
with  a  brisk  glance.  "I  thought  it  was  to  be  on  hand 
afore  we  lauded  ?" 

"No,  Sam,"  said  the  other,  putting  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  very  coolly,  "you'll  have  to  wait  here  two  or 
three  hours  before  the  load  gets  along;  for  it  isn't  safe 
to  run  the  risk  of  being  caught  by  these  rascally  rebels 
at  trading  with  the  Long  Islanders."  The  sailor  gave  a 
whistle  at  this,  which,  though  not  disrespectful,  certainly 
indicated  a  good  deal  of  impatience. 

"  What's  the  use  of  settin'  us  on  shore  so  long  afore 
there's  a  chance  of  loadin'  up?  I'm  ready  to  put  in  heart 
and  hands  to  work,  leftenant ;  but  this  turnin'  land-lubber 
and  stayin'  round  like  a  fish  washed  on  dry  ground  for. 
half  the  night,  don't  suit  my  taste,"  and  the  young  sailor 
took  a  jack-knife  and  a  roll  of  tobacco  from  his  pocket. 

"Well,  Sam,"  answered  the  other,  in  a  voice  designed 
to  be  conciliatory,  "  the  truth  is,  I  wanted  time  to  cruise 
round  here  a  little  and  take  the  soundings.  There's  likely 
to  be  a  descent  on  this  coast  before  long,  such  as  our  troops 
made  on  Danbury  last  spring,  and  I  want  to  spend  an  hour 
or  two  in  spying  out  the  land  and  see  where  we  shall  be 
likely  to  get  the  best  hauls." 

"  That's  a  fair  game  with  an  enemy,"  answered  the 
sailor,  who  seemed  to  have  a  sort  of  privilege  of  free 
speech. 

"  Well,  you  and  Jack  can  go  up  in  the  pines  yonder, 
and  take  a  snooze  as  well  as  you  could  in  your  bunks  out 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  195 

there ;  only  keep  one  eye  open,  for  if  good  luck's  perched  on 
our  banner  the  cargo'Jl  be  along  soon  after  nine  o'clock," 
answered  the  disguised  officer,  who  mingled  nautical  and 
military  phrases  in  a  fashion  somewhat  original. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  touching  his  tarpaulin,  and  the  lieutenant, 
after  these  brief  orders,  struck  off  to  the  right,  while  the 
sailor  and  his  companion  steered  for  the  belt  of  pine  woods. 

In  the  wide  old  kitchen  Grace  Palmer  sat  alone  that 
evening.  The  doors  and  windows  were  open,  and  the 
sweet  spices  of  the  woods  came  in  at  both,  and  so  did  the 
still  moonlight.  Grace  sat  before  a  small  round  table, 
intently  bowed  over  a  book,  upon  whose  pages  a  pair 
of  candles  poured  their  soft  light.  One  cheek  rested  on 
her  hand  and  broke  her  right  profile ;  but  the  left  was 
brought  out  with  singular  distinctness.  You  saw  the 
sweet,  pure  face,  the  rich  bands  of  hair,  the  delicate 
womanly  figure ;  and  a  pair  of  eyes  saw  this,  peering 
through,  the  dismantled  hop-vines  by  the  window — a  pair 
of  stealthy,  watching  eyes,  whose  first  look  had  been  one  of 
surprised  admiration,  but  which,  as  they  gazed,  grew  into  a 
dark,  gloating  one,  which  would  have  frozen  the  unconscious 
girl  with  terror  if  she  had  seen  it.  The  light  from  the 
kitchen  windows  of  the  farm-house  had  probably  attracted 
the  stranger,  for  he  had  entered  the  garden  by  the  back  gate 
and  stolen  surreptitiously  round  to  the  window,  and  planted 
himself  where  he  could  command  the  entire  room  and  its 
only  occupant. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  house  that  night  but  Grace  and 
Benny,  who  was  sleeping  soundly  up  stairs.  The  Deacon 
and  his  wife  had  gone  over  to  New  London  to  an  evening 
meeting,  and  Robert  had  only  waited  until  the  harvest  was 
gathered  in,  and  then  hurried  away  to  join  the  army  of 


196  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

Gates  at  the  north,  whither  Connecticut  was  pouring  in  her 
militia  at  the  summons  of  her  patriotic  Governor. 

The  stealthy,  gloating  gaze  continued  for  more  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  intermitted  by  an  occasional  glance 
around  the  kitchen,  and  over  the  outside  of  the  house. 
The  stranger  was  evidently  revolving  some  purpose  in  his 
mind,  for  he  shook  his  head  several  times  and  muttered  to 
himself.  Finally  he  turned  suddenly  and  walked  around 
to  the  kitchen  door. 

Grace  was  aroused  by  a  loud  knock.  She  rose  in  haste, 
went  to  the  door,  and  encountered  a  stranger,  who,  taking 
off  his  hat,  informed  her  in  courteous  phrase  that  he  was 
on  business  to  New  London,  had  missed  the  stage,  and  had 
come  on  foot  nearly  twenty  miles,  and  was  now  thoroughly 
fatigued.  He  desired  to  secure  a  night's  lodging  and  a  sup 
per. 

"Will  you  walk  in,  sir?  I  can  give  you  the  supper, 
and  when  father  returns  I  don't  doubt  but  you  can-  have 
the  lodging,"  said  the  hospitable  girl. 

The  stranger  walked  in,  took  the  chair  which  Grace 
offered  him,  and  she  bestirred  herself  to  get  him  a  supper ; 
as  in  those  times  it  was  nothing  unusual  for  strangers  to 
get  benighted  and  apply  at  the  farm-houses  for  a  meal  or  a 
night's  lodging. 

In  a  little  while  the  table  was  spread  with  an  abundant 
repast,  most  grateful  to  the  appetite  of  a  weary  traveller. 
This  one  certainly  exerted  himself  to  be  agreeable;  made 
various  inquiries  about  the  neighborhood ;  and  chatted  about 
the  crops  and  weather  in  a  style  that,  though  familiar,  was 
not  at  first  presuming. 

Grace's  first  impression  of  him  had  been  favorable,  and 
she  therefore  replied  to  his  remarks  with  more  freedom 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  197 

than  she  would  otherwise  have  done.  But  something  in 
the  man's  manner,  and  a  closer  view  of  his  face,  effected  a 
rapid  change  in  her  impressions.  Before  the  supper  was 
over  Grace  grew  very  reserved,  while  it  seemed  to  her  the 
stranger's  manner  was  almost  impertinent,  and  she  began 
to  feel  uneasy,  reflecting  that  she  was  quite  unprotected  in 
the  house,  and  she  was  glad  that  it  was  nearly  time  for  her 
father  to  return.  Grace  had,  in  accordance  with  the  fashion 
of  those  times,  placed  a  pitcher  of  cider  on  the  table,  but 
her  guest  replenished  his  glass  so  frequently  that  she  re 
gretted  she  had  provided  it  with  anything  stronger  than 
water;  especially  as  with  every  fresh  indulgence  the 
traveller  became  more  garrulous. 

At  last  the  traveller  finished  his  supper,  and,  rising 
up,  approached  Grace  familiarly.  She  started  and  glanced 
up,  in  surprise,  and  met  the  gloating  eyes  that  seemed  to 
devour  her  face.  With  a  sick  shudder  the  girl  attempted 
to  move  aside,  when  she  found  herself  seized  around  the 
waist  and  her  cheeks  blistered  with  hot,  fierce  kisses,  before 
she  could  extricate  herself  from  the  brutal  soldier's  em 
braces.  She  writhed  herself  away  in  a  moment,  every 
limb  shaking  with  horror  and  indignation,  as  she  turned 
on  him : 

'  How  dare  you,  sir!     Go  out  of  that  door  this  instant !" 

The  man  cowered  a  moment  as  he  met  the  blaze  of  storm 
and  wrath  in  that  white  face  ;  but  it  was  only  a  moment,  as 
he  reflected  that  she  stood  there,  defy  him  as  she  might,  a 
helpless  woman,  wholly  in  his  power,  and  he  drew  towards 
her  again. 

"  Those  airs  are  very  becoming,  my  pretty  bird ;  but 
your  wings  are  clipped,  and  it  won't  be  of  any  use  to  flut 
ter  now." 


198  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

The  wretch  was  half  intoxicated  by  this  time,  and  lie 
made  another  effort  to  seize  Grace  about  the  waist.  She 
dashed  aside  the  large  arms  with  superhuman  strength, 
and  rushed  out  into  the  hall.  The  front  door  was  barred ; 
her  pursuer  was  close  upon  her ;  she  heard  his  loud  laugh, 
his  fierce  oaths,  and  sprang  up  the  stairs ;  up,  up  flashed 
the  trembling  feet  of  the  terrified  girl,  and  close  on  her 
track  came  the  strong  pursuer;  if  she  could  only  gain  her 
own  chamber — and  then  it  flashed  across  her  that  the  key 
to  the  door  had  been  lost  for  some  time  ;  but  as  she  gained 
the  topmost  stair  her  wild  eyes  grazed  an  old  musket 
which  lay  on  a  sort  of  shelf  in  one  corner  of  the  upper  hall. 
She  knew  it  was  loaded,  for  her  father  had  told  her  so 
when  he  placed  it  there,  a  few  days  previous,  on  his  return 
from  a  day's  hunting. 

The  girl  sprang  forward  and  seized  the  gun.  Her  pur 
suer  had  now  reached  the  landing,  but  paused,  for  the 
moonlight  fell  broad  and  full  into  the  old  hall ;  he  saw  the 
white  face  of  the  girl  and  the  eyes  that  blazed  out  of  it. 
She  had  never  fired  a  gun  in  her  life,  but  she  pointed  the 
old  musket  steadily  now,  and  her  voice  rang  loud  and 
strong  on  the  night : 

"Stir  another  step  forward,  and  you  are  a  dead  man 
from  that  moment !" 

He  could  not  doubt  from  her  voice  and  face  she  was  in 
earnest  now ;  he  stood  still  a  moment,  and  then  with  an 
oath  broke  out : 

"I  don't  believe  that  rusty  firelock  is  loaded,  my 
girl." 

"  Try  it  at  your  peril !"  her  hand  on  the  trigger,  her  white 
face  set  with  a  fixed  resolve  that  left  no  room  for  doubt. 
So  the  two  confronted  each  other — the  dauntless  girl,  the 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  199 

baffled  villain — and  there  was  none  but  God  and  the  listen 
ing  angels  to  see.  The  man  stood  still ;  he  had  plenty  of 
brute  courage,  but  he  saw  that  another  step  forward  would 
be  his  last  on  earth ;  he  glared  on  Grace  with  eyes  full  of 
baffled  rage ;  then  he  shook  his  clenched  fist  at  her,  mut 
tered  a  fearful  oath,  and  went  down  the  stairs.  Grace 
heard  the  sullen,  heavy  feet  as  they  went  along  the  front 
path ;  she  heard  the  gate  open  and  shut,  and  then  she 
moved  cautiously  to  the  window,  and  watched  the  man  as 
he  went  down  the  road,  in  the  white  moonlight,  to  the 
lane.  He  turned  here  and  glanced  back  at  the  house, 
shook  his  hand  at  it  menacingly  once  more,  then  moved 
hastily  on,  and  Grace  was  alone  in  the  still  night  with  no 
sound  but  her  loud  heart. 

She  went  down  stairs,  shaking  in  every  limb  as  leaves 
do  in  equinoctial  gales,  but  she  carried  the  old  musket  with 
her  which  had  done  her  such  good  service,  and  she  passed 
her  hand  over  it  with  a  light  caress,  and  smiled  the  stern 
est  smile  which  had  ever  unbent  the  lips  of  Grace  Palmer, 
and  which  would  have  reminded  one  of  pictures  of  the  old 
martyrs  as  they  walked  chanting  hymns  of  victory  to  their 
death.  She  had  hardly  reached  the  kitchen  door,  for  she 
was  about  to  seek  protection  at  the  nearest  neighbor's, 
when  she  heard  voices,  and  the  next  moment  her  father 
and  mother  came  in  sight.  She  started  to  meet  them,  but 
could  not  get  beyond  the  gate.  Her  father  found  her  here 
and  had  to  carry  her  into  the  house ;  but  she  did  not  lose 
her  consciousness,  and  in  a  little  while  the  horrified  parents 
knew  all  that  their  child  had  passed  through  in  the  last 
hour.  There  were  joyful  thanksgivings  under  the  farm- 
roof  of  Deacon  Palmer  that  night. 

About  ten  o'clock  that  same  night  a  long  wagon  might 


200  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

have  been  seen  coming  cautiously  out  of  the  woods,  on  the 
right  of  the  curtain  of  pines,  and  making  directly  for  the 
low  beetling  rock  which  overlooked  the  water.  The  man 
who  drove  it  wore  a  hat  slouched  low  over  his  forehead, 
and  a  large,  light  overcoat  buttoned  up  close  to  his  chin. 
An  old  canvas  cloth  was  thrown  over  his  wagon,  and  his 
whole  dress  and  bearing,  with  the  drooping  head  and  bent 
shoulders,  gave  one  the  impression  that  he  was  some 
drowsy  clodhopper  on  his  way  to  the  sea-shore  after  clams 
or  fish. 

The  wagon  drew  up  under  the  thick  shadows  of  the  low 
pines.  The  driver  alighted  with  a  dexterity  which  indi 
cated  a  suppleness  of  limb  that  would  have  quite  taken  one 
by  surprise  who  had  seen  him  before  he  entered  the  pines ; 
he  placed  a  small  tin  horn  to  his  lips  and  blew  twice, 
emitting  a  long  peculiar  note,  which,  at  that  time  of  night 
and  under  the  circumstances,  had  something  significant  in 
it.  In  a  moment  two  sailors,  who  had  been  lying  on  the 
ground  at  a  little  distance,  sprang  hastily  up  and  approach 
ed  the  wagon. 

"  I  say,"  said  the  younger  of  these,  glancing  under  the 
slouched  hat,  "  is  your  name  Jarvys?" 

"  I  reckon  it  ain't  anything  else,  my  hearties,"  exclaimed 
a  loud  voice,  and  divesting  himself  of  the  slouched  hat  and 
coat  in  an  incredibly  short  time,  the  driver  revealed  the 
face  of  Eichard  Jarvys. 

"  That  craft  o'yourn  can't  sail  many  knots  an  hour,  mis 
ter." 

i(  We've  been  on  shore  ever  since  eight  o'clock,"  said 
the  older  of  the  sailors,  in  a  slightly  indignant  tone. 
"  Hang  it,  I've  had  to  steer  five  miles  out  o'  my  course  and 
hang  out  false  lights  to  get  here  at  all.  The  villains  are 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR   FATHERS.  201 

getting  sharp  round  here,  and  are  likely  to  overhaul  a  craft 
if  she  looks  suspicious." 

"  Where's  the  lieutenant  ?" 

"  He's  set  sail  alone  to  take  soundin's  along  shore  that 
may  sarve  him  if  he  anchors  round  here  again,"  explained 
the  older  sailor. 

Richard  Jarvys  laughed  a  coarse,  hoarse  laugh. 

"  He's  a  sharp  one !"  was  his  laconic  comment,  and  then 
stripping  off  the  canvas  cloth,  he  disclosed  several  large 
boxes  of  butter,  with  hams,  dried  beef,  cheeses,  and  various 
farm  produce  packed  so  closely  that  it  was  evident  the 
most  had  been  made  of  the  space  the  old  wagon  afforded. 

"  Heave  to,  my  hearties,"  said  Richard,  "  and  I'll  give  a 
helping  hand.  It's  well  to  get  this  load  on  board  as  soon  as 
possible,  for  there's  no  telling  how  soon  some  spy  may  be 
sticking  round  here." 

The  men  certainly  needed  no  second  warning.  The 
wagon  was  drawn  to  the  other  side  of  the  pines,  and  stout 
muscles  bent  with  a  will  to  the  work,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  promiscuous  load  was  all  safely  bestowed  in  the  bottom 
of  the  little  skiff.  This  was  Scarcely  done  when  the  dis 
guised  lieutenant  appeared  in  sight.  Richard  Jarvys  and 
he  shook  hands  with  the  warmth  of  old  cronies,  and  the 
latter  complimented  his  friend  on  his  "  making  the  most  of 
opportunities." 

The  subsequent  conversation  which  took  place  betwixt 
the  traitor  and  the  British  officer  was  of  too  coarse  a 
nature  and  two  frequently  interspersed  with  oaths,  to  soil 
our  pages.  But  in  the  midst  of  some  vituperations  on 
American  character  and  cowardice  on  the  officer's  part,  to 
which  Jarvys  the  younger  briskly  assented,  the  lieutenant 
broke  in  with : 

9* 


202  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  But  I  say,  Jarvys,  these  rebels  have  some  of  the  pret 
tiest  women  that  ever  made  a  fellow's  mouth  water.  I've 
caught  a  glimpse  of  one  to-night." 

"Where?"  asked  Richard,  with  some  curiosity. 

"  At  a  farm-house  about  two  miles  to  the  south  of  us. 
She  was  as  handsome  as  a  picter ;  but  she'd  got  the  spirit 
of  a  tigress,  and  it  blazed  out  before  I  left.  She'd  have 
shot  me  dead  on  the  spot,  sir,  as  quick  as  I  would  a  fox. 
I  saw  it  in  her  eyes ;  but  they  looked  splendid,  though !" 

"  How  did  you  come  across  her,  lieutenant  ?"  asked 
Richard,  his  face  full  of  greedy  interest. 

His  companion  looked 'at  him,  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then  slapped  Richard  on  the  shoulder : 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  yarn,  Jarvys,"  he  said,  lowering 
his  tone  slightly;  and,  drawing  his  arm  in  Richard's,  the 
two  men  retired  a  short  distance  to  the  neighborhood  of  the 
wagon. 

This  conversation  had  occurred  in  a  loud  voice  in  the 
hearing  of  the  two  sailors.  The  elder  paid  little  heed  to 
it ;  but  the  younger,  standing  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
just  where  the  dark  line  of  shadows  cut  the  beach  sands, 
had  evidently  caught  every  word.  The  moonlight  fell  full 
on  his  brown,  sea-beaten  face ;  but  it  was  a  shrewd,  honest 
face  for  all  that — one  that  in  peril  or  need  a  little  child  or 
a  dying  man  would  have  trusted. 

A  flash  of  indignation  went  over  the  sailor's  face  as  he 
heard  the  lieutenant  talk,  and  as  the  men  disappeared  he 
muttered  to  himself: 

"  It's  a  fair  thing  to  meet  a  man  in  deadly  fight,  and  a 
country  that's  in  arms  agin  her  rightful  king  don't  deserve 
over  tender  handlin' ;  but  when  it  comes  to  insultin'  or 
harmin'  a  woman,  I  say  the  man  that'll  do  that  should  be 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUE  FATHERS.  203 

hung  up  to  the  first  branch  that's  strong  enough  to  hold 
him ;  and  I'd  do  it  with  this  'ere  right  hand  without 
flinchin'.  I  fancy  that  ere  lieutenant's  got  some  mischief 
a  brewin',  and  I'll  jist  steer  round  and  heave  to  under 
them  thick  trees,  and  find  out  if  he's  settin'  any  trap  to 
catch  a  woman." 

And  bidding  his  companion  watch  the  skiff,  which  lay 
softly  in  the  lap  of  the  black  shadow  cast  by  the  overhang 
ing  rocks,  the  young  sailor  was  soon  lost  sight  of  among 
the  pines. 

A  few  questions  satisfied  Richard  Jarvys  that  the  lieute 
nant  had  seen  Grace  Palmer ;  and  he  listened  greedily  to 
the  man's  narration  of  his  interview  with  the  Deacon's 
daughter  and  the  deed  by  which  she  at  last  compelled  him 
to  leave  the  farm-house,  full  of  baffled  rage  and  ven 
geance. 

"I  know  how  she  looked,  Morgan.  It  was  just  like 
Grace  Palmer,"  was  Richard's  comment,  when  the  other 
concluded ;  and  there  rose  up  before  his  memory  the 
radiant,  scornful  face  of  the  Deacon's  daughter,  as  he  had 
seen  it  last. 

"What!  You  know  the  girl,  then?"  asked  the  lieute 
nant,  eagerly. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  bear  an  old  grudge  against  her  and  her 
psalm-singing  old  father,  and  I'd  like  to  pay  it  off,"  growl 
ed  Jarvys  the  younger. 

"  I'll  give  you  my  next  quarter's  pay  if  you'll  show  me 
a  way  to  trap  that  girl.  I'd  like  to  take  down  her  pride, 
though.  Her  eyes  flashed  like  a  panther's  in  a  dark  night," 
said  the  lieutenant,  with  an  oath. 

Dick  mused  a  few  moments  as  he  lay  under  the  pines, 
breathing  out  on  the  night  their  sweet  balsam  and  myrrh. 


204  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

He  struck  up  the  sodden  leaves  into  a  dingy  brown  shower 
with  the  heel  of  his  boot. 

"  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  money ;  but  I  might  do  it  for 
revenge,"  he  said,  looking  up,  and  a  shaft  of  light  came 
down  through  the  pines  and  fell  on  his  face,  dark  with  evil 
thoughts,  just  as  God's  gaze  drops  clear  and  white  on  all 
the  passion  and  sin  of  human  souls,  and  there  is  no  dark 
ness  that  hideth  from  it.  • 

"  I  like  to  hear  you  say  that,  Jarvys,"  returned  the  officer. 
"A  man  will  do  more  for  revenge  on  a  pretty  woman 
who's  served  him  ill  than  he  will  for  money.  Give  us 
your  hand,  Jarvys." 

And  the  two  men  shook  hands  in  iniquity,  although  no 
settled  purpose  or  plan  of  action  developed  itself  in  the 
mind  of  either.  The  lieutenant  drew  nearer  his  companion. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  running  any  great  risk  to  run  a  skiff 
over  from  Long  Island  some  night,  and,  with  a  fair  breeze, 
we  could  get  back  in  a  couple  of  hours,  even  if  we  had  a 
hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds  extra  freight  in  the  shape 
of  this  psalm-singing  Deacon's  pretty  daughter.  I've  more 
than  one  man  I  could  trust  to  do  the  business,  and  if  we 
could  only  set  a  trap  for  the  bird  some  dark  night — ': 

The  man  stopped  here.  Perhaps  even  he  had  enough  of 
human  feeling  remaining  to  shrink  from  putting  this  fiend 
ish  plan  into  words.  Richard  understood  his  companion. 

"  If  there's  a  chance  within  the  next  two  weeks  it  shall 
not  slip,  Morgan,"  he  muttered  down  his  throat,  so  low 
had  he  fallen  in  accordance  with  that  "  fearful  logic  of  evil" 
which  leads  from  bad  to  worse.  "But  I  must  bide  my 
time ;  and  you  may  rely  on  it  I've  got  some  especial  reasons 
for  liking  to  settle  up  old  scores  with  this  girl,  though 
if  it  should  be  known  round  here  that  I  had  a  finger  in 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  205 

the  pie,  my  neck  would  have  a  hangman's  rope  round  it 
before  another  sun  rose — " 

"Whist  is  the  word,"  said  the  lieutenant,  getting  up 
from  the  ground,  as  did  his  companion.  "  I  must  hurry 
off,  for  it's  getting  late,  and  it  isn't  safe  to  lurk  long  within 
an  enemy's  lines.  But,  Jarvys,  you're  on  hand  here ;  keep 
one  eye  open,  and  if  you  see  a  good  chance  for  snaring  the 
game,  I'm  your  man ;  and  two  other  pair  of  stout  arms  can 
carry  it  off,  let  it  snap  and  scratch  as  it  may." 

"  It  would  be  fierce  enough,  you  may  depend  on't,"  said 
Richard,  with  a  laugh  that  would  have  made  an  honest 
man  shudder.  "  But  I'll  keep  a  sharp  look  out  and  send 
you  a  signal  if  there's  any  chance  of  good  luck." 

"  We  want  a  dark  night  and  a  clear  coast,"  said  the 
lieutenant,  in  a  low  voice,  bringing  his  face  down  close  to 
his  companion's. 

"  I  know  we  must  make  quick  work  if  we're  in  for  it," 
said  Eichard,  under  his  breath. 

And  the  two  men  went  out  together  from  the  dark  sha 
dows  of  the  pines,  and  the  calm,  solemn  stars  shone  down 
upon  them,  and  the  "night  was  holy,"  but  not  for  them. 
And  as  they  went  out,  a  shadow  which  had  lain  a  few  feet 
from  them — a  shadow  darker  than  any  which  the  pines 
threw  on  the  sodden  grass,  and  which  did  not  move  when 
the  night  wind  went  softly  among  the  tree-tops — rose  up 
and  took  a  shorter  cut  to  the  little  skiff  rocking  on  the 
waters. 


206  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUK  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

"  I  SHALL  be  home  by  eight  o'clock  to-night,  mother." 

Grace  Palmer  turned  as  she  stood  by  the  kitchen  door 
and  said  these  words.  She  was  tying  on  her  bonnet,  and 
from  her  left  arm  was  suspended  a  small  basket  covered 
with  a  snowy  towel,  suggestive  of  some  dainty  intended  to 
stimulate  the  appetite  of  an  invalid. 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  diligently  occupied  with  her  pans  of 
milk  in  the  pantry. 

"  I  hope  you'll  have  a  pleasant  day  with  grandma,"  she 
said.  "  Tell  her  I  think  that  elderberry  wine  will  set  well 
when  she  has  a  faint  turn ;  and  as  for  that  blackberry  jelly 
I  never  had  the  luck  I  did  this  year.  It  come  in  no  time. 
That  new  receipt's  worth  a  dozen  of  the  old  ones." 

These  last  remarks  were  made  to  herself.  Grace  was 
quite  out  of  hearing ;  but  she  little  suspected  that  her  last 
words  had  reached  any  ears  but  her  mother's,  or  that  that 
half  Indian  boy,  who  had  for  several  years  been  employed  in 
Ralph  Jarvys's  family,  had  of  late  been  skulking  about 
the  homestead,  eagerly  listening  and  watching  for  any 
movement  on  the  part  of  its  few  inmates;  or  that  the  half- 
breed  hurried  off  across  the  lots  to  his  master's  as  soon  as 
he  had  heard  these  words,  and  had  a  long  secret  interview 
in  the  barn  with  Richard,  after  which  the  boy  started  for 
the  river,  put  off  in  a  small  skiff,  and  stood  for  the  Long 
Island  shore. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  207 

Mrs.  Comfort  Palmer  lived  in  a  small  brown  cottage, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  her  son's.  The  old  lady  had 
been  unusually  feeble  the  last  year,  and  Grace  had  gone 
over  to  afford  her  grandmother  such  assistance  in  various 
domestic  matters  as  old  age  and  growing  infirmities  ren 
dered  necessary. 

It  was  one  of  those  days  which  are  like  goblets  filled  to 
overflowing  with  the  purple  wine  of  the  year.  What 
sweet  spices  were  in  the  air  from  pine,  and  sassafras,  and 
fern  ;  what  still  winds,  as  though  they  had  come  from  some 
far-off  islands  of  balm  and  peace  ;  what  a  heavenly  serenity 
in  the  blue,  deep  sky  ;  what  a  tender,  solemn  beauty  in  the 
sunshine !  That  day,  with  its  face  hallowed  and  inspired 
with  still,  solemn  beauty,  drew  the  soul  of  Grace  into  its 
exaltation  of  calm  and  praise. 

She  heard  the  rolling  metres  of  its  joy  and  triumph;  she 
knew  the  God  who  had  ordained  that  day,  and  set  it  a  joy 
and  praise  in  the  earth,  only  uttered  through  it  faintly  and 
afar  off*  the  blessed  story  of  the  calm,  and  peace,  and  joy 
in  which  He  dwells  eternally,  and  which  He  has  prepared 
for  those  who  love  Him !  And  through  those  October 
hours,  with  their  splendors  of  coloring,  their  banners  of 
sunshine,  Grace  Palmer  worked  diligently  about  the  little 
brown  cottage — setting  the  rooms  in  order,  arranging  the 
bundles  of  mint,  and  rue,  and  wormwood,  and  penny 
royal,  and  motherwort,  and  labelling  the  brown  packages 
with  such  large  round  capitals,  that  the  dim  eyes  which  had 
gazed  on  life  for  more  than  ninety  years  could  make  them 
out  without  the  aid  of  glasses.  And  in  the  afternoon  she 
sat  down  before  the  small  front  window  and  settled  her 
self  to  mending  stockings,  and  the  peace  in  her  heart  flow 
ed  like  a  river. 


208  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

Old  Mrs.  Palmer  bestowed  herself  down  in  a  large  rock 
ing-chair  opposite  her  granddaughter,  and  there  was  a 
twinkle  of  satisfaction  in  her  dim  eyes  as  they  looked  out 
on  the  day.  But  a  shadow  fell  suddenly  upon  the  old 
woman's  face,  and  she  said,  drawing  a  deep  sigh  and  speak 
ing  more  to  herself  than  to  her  granddaughter  : 

"It  was  just  such  a  day  as  this,  seventy-five  year  ago 
this  blessed  autumn  ;  and  yet  it  don't  seem  so  far  off  as 
yesterday  when  I  think  of  it — ' 

"  Think  of  what,  grandma  ?"  asked  Grace,  who  had 
caught  the  last  words,  and  who  was  just  in  that  fine,  sympa 
thetic  mood  when  a  story  or  legend  that  comes  down  to  us 
through  a  long  pathway  of  silent  years  has  a  peculiar  fra 
grance  and  charm. 

"  The  day  that  Cousin  Increase  came  to  our  house,  and 
sister  Hope  and  he  went  down  into  the  blue  meadows  to 
gather  spearmint.  I  can  see  the  golden  head  that  was  as 
bright  and  shinin'  like  as  that  tallest  feather  of  golden  rod 
a  wavin'  by  the  stone  fence  yonder,  as  it  went  bobbin'  and 
flutterin'  like  a  bird  out  of  the  kitchen  door ;  but  it  never 
came  back — it  never  came  back,  Grace!" 

The  old  woman's  voice  struggled  and  sank,  the  long- 
buried  memories  came  like  the  spring  tides  over  her  sou] 
and  flooded  the  banks  of  the  years  of  her  life  ! 

"  Tell  me  about  it,  grandma  !"  said  the  girl,  softly,  as  she 
slipped  her  darning-needle  back  and  forth  among  the  blue 
bars  of  yarn. 

"  I  havn't  spoken  of  that  day  to  a  human  bein'  for  more 
than  twenty  years,"  continued  the  old  woman,  taking  off 
her  glasses  and  wiping  them  with  her  handkerchief;  "but 
I  never  see  a  day  like  this,  with  the  air  full  of  sweet  smells 
as  a  bed  of  mint,  and  the  sunshine  poured  like  a  bright 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUE  FATHERS.  209 

flood  o'  glory  over  all  the  earth,  but  that  day  comes  back 
and  stands  still  afore  me ;  though  all  them  for  whom  it 
brought  a  mornin'  of  joy  and  a  night  of  sorrow  have  laid 
themselves  long  ago  on  a  pillow  which  no  hands  ever 
sewed  but  the  sunshine  and  the  rains. 

"  Daniel,  and  Joseph,  and  Samuel,  my  three  brothers, 
had  gone  off  huntin'  that  mornin',  and  there  was  nobody 
left  at  home  but  the  women  folks — mother,  and  Hope,  and 
I.  We  didn't  think  of  bein'  afraid,  though  there  had  been 
rumors  of  Injins  skulkin'  around  the  frontiers  ;  and  a  few 
miles  west  of  our  house  a  family  had  been  surprised  at 
dead  of-night  by  the  dreadful  war-whoop,  and  the  next 
minute  the  Injins  had  broken  in  the  door,  and  afore  the 
frightened  family  could  get  out  of  their  beds  and  take  to 
the  woods,  three  on  'em  were  scalped.  •  Of  course  this 
made  a  mighty  commotion  through  the  whole  region  at 
first,  and  my  brothers  never  went  to  sleep  without  seem' 
that  the  dogs  were  set  to  watch  and  that  their  guns  stood 
well  loaded  by  their  bedsides ;  but  as  the  days  wore  off 
tranquilly,  and  no  more  was  seen  or  heard  of  the  savages, 
we  sort  of  grew  quiet  again  and  went  along  as  usual.  I 
suppose  it's  human  natur'  that  folks  should  get  used  to 
danger  in  a  new  country,  with  wild  beasts  on  one  hand 
and  savages  on  the  other. 

"  My  sister,  Hope  Crandall,  was  a  pretty  creetur'  as  ever 
the  Lord  sent  to  make  love  and  light  in  a  household.  She 
was  two  years  older  than  I,  and  jest  about  your  height, 
Grace,  with  a  pair  of  eyes  that  was  jest  the  color  of  the 
sky  to-day,  and  cheeks  like  the  red  side  of  the  peaches  on 
the  tree  by  the  barn,  and  lips  that  made  you  think  of  a 
pair  of  rose-buds  with  the  first  sunlight  on  them  after  a 
night's  shower,  and  a  head  that  was  never  still,  but  danced 


210  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

and  fluttered  like  a  bird's.  She  was  the  merriest,  happiest 
thing,  light  as  a  snow-flake,  bright  as  a  sunbeam,  singin' 
like  a  robin  in  May  from  mornin'  till  night  about  the 
house.  Poor  Hope  !" 

What  memories,  sweet  and  bitter,  set  round  and  sanctified 
this  name  Grace  did  not  know  ;  the  old  woman  was  silent 
awhile,  and  the  girl's  rapid  needle  ploughed  its  noiseless 
path  amid  the  furrows  of  yarn.  At  last  Mrs.  Palmer 
resumed  : 

"  We  all  set  the  world  o'  store  on  Hope ;  and  there 
wasn't  a  gal  for  twenty  miles  around  that  could  hold  a  can 
dle  to  her  at  a  singin'  school  or  a  corn  huskin',  and  she 
fairly  turned  the  heads  of  the  young  farmers  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  But  Cousin  Increase  won  the  prize,  and  he 
deserved  it !" 

"  Who  was  Cousin  Increase  ?"  the  young,  steady  voice 
slipped  with  sweet  and  singular  contrast  among  the  old 
woman's  tremulous  tones. 

"  He  was  the  son  of  my  father's  brother's  second  wife 
by  her  first  husband.  He  was  a  handsome  young  fel 
low,  straight  and  lithe,  and  brave  as  a  lion,  runnin'  over 
with  fun  and  spirits,  and  yet  tender-hearted  as  a  little 
child.  Well,  that  mornin',  I  remember,  mother  sat  by 
the  chimney  corner  quarterin'  apples  for  winter  use,  and 
I  was  in  the  pantry  stampin'  the  great  yellow  balls  o' 
butter  with  the  pattern  of  an  anchor  which  my  father 
had  brought  from  the  old  country  when  he  was  a  boy. 
Hope  was  talkin'  to  me  where  she  stood  jest  outside  the 
kitchen  window,  for  she  was  nailin'  up  a  rosebrier  that 
the  wind  had  shook  down  a  night  or  two  before.  Suddenly 
a  voice  that  made  us  both  start,  said :  '  Let  me  have  the 
hammer,  Hope.  I  can  do  that  a  great  deal  better  than  you.' 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  211 

"  Hope  gave  a  little  scream,  and  turned  her  pretty  head : 
'  I  declare,  Cousin  Increase,  what  a  fright  you  gave  me. 
I  should  as  soon  thought  of  seein'  the  man  in  the  moon  as 
you  this  mornin ','  she  said,  with  her  laugh,  that  was  a  sweeter 
thing  to  hear  than  the  first  robins  in  March. 

"  '  Should  you,  Hope  ?     Let  me  have  the  hammer  ?' 

"  '  No,  you  shan't,'  with  a  toss  of  her  golden  head.  '  I'm 
goin'  to  nail  up  the  rosebrier  myself.' 

"  They  had  a  playful  little  struggle  betwixt  the  two,  and 
I  kept  on  at  work  with  my  pats  of  butter,  for  Cousin  In 
crease  hadn't  seen  me,  and  I  s'pose  Hope  had  forgotten  all 
about  my  bein'  in  the  pantry.  He  got  the  hammer  in  a 
few  moments  and  Hope  pelted  him  with  greenbrier  leaves 
and  called  him  a  wicked  assailer  of  helpless  women,  for 
she  was  in  high  spirits  that  mornin'. 

"  At  last,  Increase  got  to  work,  and  I  remember  his 
sayin' :  '  I  ought  to  have  my  own  way  this  mornin',  for 
I've  walked  ten  miles  since  breakfast.' 

"  'Why,  Cousin  Increase,  what  in  the  world  have  you 
done  that  for  ?'  asked  Hope,  who  stood  by  him  now  watch- 
in'  his  work. 

"  '  Jest  for  the  longin'  I  had  to  see  your  sweet  face  once 
more,  Hope  Crandall,'  said  the  young  man,  and  his  voice 
said  more  than  his  words  did. 

"  '  Cousin  Increase,'  said  Hope,  and  then  she  stopped 
short  suddenly  as  though  she  didn't  know  exactly  what 
next  to  say. 

"  The  hammer  dropped  from  the  young  man's  hands. 
He  looked  up  in  the  sweet  blushin'  face  that  was  like  a  car 
nation  pink,  with  the  white  and  red  vanishin'  in  and  out 
of  it. 

"  '  It's  the  livin'  truth,  Hope,'  said  Increase  Dale,  as  I  had 


212  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

never  heard  him  speak  afore.  '  I've  carried  that  sweet  face 
o'  yourn  in  my  heart  a  shinin'  and  a  smilin'  down  all  the 
hours  o'  the  last  week,  and  at  last  I  got  to  hungerin'  and 
thirstin'  for  the  sight  of  it  until  I  couldn't  stand  it  any 
longer,  and  I  jest  started  off  this  mornin'  resolved  to  have 
the  blessed  sight  of  it  once  more.' 

"  '  Oh,  Increase,'  answered  Hope,  with  her  little  trill  of 
a  laugh  as  though  her  breath  was  too  short  to  carry  it  out, 
and  it  broke  and  fell  through  of  its  own  sweetness,  '  what 
a  way  you  men  do  have  of  sayin'  things  to  us  girls !  It's 
well  we  know  how  much  it's  good  for.' 

"Cousin  Increase  seized  them  little  white  hands.  'I  do 
mean  it  in  my  soul  afore  God,  Hope  Crandall !'  he  said,  in 
a  voice  that  didn't  leave  room  for  a  doubt.  '  And  Hope,  I 
have  been  dreamin'  all  this  week  of  not  seem  your  face 
to-day  only,  but  of  havin'  it  by  my  side  all  the  days  of  my 
life ;  of  havin'  it  to  make  sunlight  and  gladness  in  a  home 
of  my  own  ;  to  make  strong  my  arm  and  brave  my  heart, 
and  sweet  my  toil  for  that  home.  Oh,  Hope,  it'll  be  a  lovin' 
heart  that'll  shelter  that  face  o'  yourn — fairer  than  all  the 
picters  and  flowers  in  the  whole  world ;  and  if  the  roof 
isn't  as  high,  and  the  home  won't  be  as  grand  which  I  oiler 
you  as  some  others  could,  still  you'll  never  find  a  man 
that'll  try  harder  to  make  you  happy,  or  that'll  love  you 
jest  the  same,  let  whatever  of  change,  or  sickness,  or  sorrow 
come  to  you,  Hope.' 

"  I  heard  all  this  behind  the  pantry  shelves  with  the  but 
ter  stamp  in  my  hands,  and  the  tears  was  a  runnin'  down 
my  cheeks  when  Cousin  Increase  got  through.  It  ra'ly 
seemed  to  me  that  he  was  inspired  for  that  pertickerler 
occasion.  I  al'ays  knew  that  Increase  was  a  likely  young 
man,  but  it  appeared  to  me  that  our  minister  himself 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUE  FATHERS.  213 

couldn't  have  got  through  with  it  handsomer'n  that.  No 
gal  in  the  world  could  have  helped  feelin'  it !  As  for 
Hope,  she  stood  stock  still  a  minute,  and  then  I  heard  a  lit 
tle  sob  not  louder  than  a  baby's. 

"  Cousin  Increase  put  his  arm  around  her  waist,  and  I 
knew  then  how  the  matter  would  turn ;  but  it  came  into 
my  mind  all  of  a  sudden  that  I  had  no  right  to  be  standin' 
there  and  listenin'  to  things  which  was  sacred  betwixt  my 
sister  and  Cousin  Increase ;  so  I  got  out  of  the  pantry  on 
tip-toe,  and  a  good  long  while  after,  the  two  young  folks 
came  into  the  house.  I  knew  with  the  first  glance  that  the 
matter  was  all  settled.  I  never  had  seen  my  sister  look 
quite  so  pretty  as  she  did  that  day,  with  the  roses  runnin' 
up  into  and  blossomin'  out  wide  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  face 
full  of  a  new,  bright,  shy  gladness.  Poor  Hope !"  The 
old  woman's  voice  broke  down  here,  again. 

"  Why,  grandma !  what  makes  you  call  her  '  poor,'  " 
asked  Grace,  her  stocking  lying  still  in  her  lap,  the  darn 
ing-needle  making  a  bright  shaft  in  the  half-mended  heel, 
"/don't  think  she  was,  I'm  sure." 

"  Wait  until  you've  heard  the  whole  story,  Grace," 
answered  the  voice  of  the  old  woman,  half  under  its  breath, 
and  with  such  solemn  impressiveness  that  a  chill  passed 
over  the  listening  girl. 

'•  We  all  of  us  had  a  happy  day  of  it.  I  was  glad  for 
my  sister's  sake,  and  I  loved  Increase  like  a  brother,  and  I 
wondered  what  the  boys  would  say  when  they  came  to 
hear  of  it ;  and  I  busied  myself  with  thinkin'  what  a  hand 
some  bride  my  sister  would  make  with  roses  in  her  hair, 
and  a  silk  dress  brought  all  the  way  from  Cheeny  or  Lon 
don.  I  was  a  young  thing  then  jest  out  of  my  fifteenth 
birthday,  and  I  pictured  to  myself  all  the  talk  and  wonder 


214  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

there'd  be  the  first  Sunday  that  Increase  and  Hope  would 
be  cried  in  meetin'.  I  was  thankful  enough  that  I  hadn't 
got  to  go  through  with  that  ere;  and  I  wondered  how 
Hope  would  stan'  it ;  and  then  there  would  be  the  grand 
quiltin'  to  come  off,  and  all  the  bustlin'  and  fixin',  and  the 
weddin'  cake. 

"  Ah,  well,  we  ain't  young  but  once  in  our  lives,  and  it 
was  a  massy  that  what  was  jest  ahead  was  hid  from  me. 
But  that  afternoon  my  mother,  who  was  dryin'  her  herbs, 
found  out  that  she  hadn't  laid  up  any  spearmint  to  men 
tion,  and  she  was  sot  that  she  never  should  dare  ventur' 
upon  a  winter  without  it,  and  Increase  and  Hope  offered 
at  once  to  go  after  some;  for  it  grew  thick  on  a  bank 
about  half  a  mile  from  our  place,  near  a  spot  of  water 
called  Blue  Pond,  lyin'  jest  beyond  a  pretty  thick  piece  of 
woods. 

"  I  remember  they  asked  me  to  go  along,  but  I  thought 
it  was  nat'ral  the  young  folks  should  like  to  be  alone,  and 
made  some  excuse  for  stayin'  behind,  and  they  sot  off.  I 
can  remember,  too,  that  Hope  turned  and  smiled  jest  as 
she  got  to  the  back  door.  '  Comfort,'  she  said,  '  I'll  be  back 
in  time  to  help  you  get  supper  for  them  boys.  They'll  be 
as  ravenous  as  a  pack  o'  wolves  let  loose,  I  expect,'  and 
then  she  went  out. 

"  But,  Grace,  it  has  al'ays  seemed  as  though  that  smile 
of  my  sister's,  as  she  stood  in  the  kitchen  door,  has  follow 
ed  me  like  a  shinin'  light  through  all  the  long  years  of  my 
life,  and  never  flickered  nor  gone  out,  for  it  was  the  last 
time  my  sister  Hope  ever  smiled  on  me !" 

"  Grandma !" 

"  Wait  a  minute,  dear  child,  and  you  shall  know  all 
there  is  to  tell ;  and  that's  fearful  enough.  I  sat  at  my 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  215 

spinnin'  wheel  and  chatted  with  mother  that  afternoon 
about  Increase  and  Hope.  I  didn't  tell  her  what  I  had 
overheard ;  but  I  saw  she  suspected  that  somethin'  had 
been  said  to  Hope  ;  and  when  I  told  her  that  I'd  made  up 
my  mind  Increase  would  be  her  son-in-law  some  day,  she 
looked  pleased  and  said  she  thought  it  would  suit  father, 
for  Increase  was  a  likely,  forehanded  young  man,  with 
steady  habits,  though  he  was  a  little  givin'  to  so  win'  wild 
oats ;  but  then,  it  wasn't  reasonable  to  expect  young  folks 
would  be  old  uns. 

"  I  began  to  feel  a  little  uneasy  as  the  day  began  to  set 
tle  down,  and  to  glance  out  of  the  east  winder  towards  the 
turnpike  to  see  if  Increase  or  Hope  were  on  their  return, 
though  there  wasn't  nothin'  in  the  world  to  be  afeard  on, 
as  I  could  tell,  and  I  tried  to  shake  it  off.  But  I  grew 
more  and  more  uneasy  as  they  didn't  come.  At  last  I  sot 
away  my  spinnin'  wheel,  and  was  goin'  to  put  on  the  tea 
kettle,  for  the  sun  had  got  on  top  of  the  mountain,  when 
suddenly  our  next-door  neighbor  came  runnin'  into  our 
house  pantin'  and  breathless  : 

'•'•''Miss  Crandall,'  he  cried  out,  'has  any  of  our  folks 
gone  over  to  the  woods  east  of  the  turnpike  this  after 
noon  ?' 

"  '  Why,  yes,'  says  mother,  '  my  daughter  and  her  cousin's 
gone  over  to  Blue  Pond  to  gather  some  spearmint  for  me.' 

" '  Wall,  my  man,  who's  been  to  work  in  the  fields  at  the 
south  of  the  Pond,  has  jist  brought  me  word  that  he's  heard 
firm'  in  that  direction,  and  a  few  minutes  later  he  seen  two 
savages  makin'  tracks  through  the  bushes  on  the  right." 

" '  Oh,  Mr.  Jackson,  who  knows  but  what  they've  shot 
my  daughter!' 

I  see  my  poor  mother's  face  as  it  looked  that  moment, 


216  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHE11S. 

standing  by  the  chimney-piece,  and  it  was  no  whiter  when 
I  saw  it  years  after,  as  they  laid  the  grave-cloth  over  it. 

" '  Wall,  maybe  there's  no  harm  done,  Miss  Crandall,' 
said  neighbor  Jackson.  '  I'll  hunt  up  the  farm-hands,  and 
we'll  start  right  over  to  the  Pond,'  and  he  hurried  off  in  a 
way  that  showed  he  feared  there  might  have  been  foul 
play. 

"  He  had  got  only  a  few  rods  from  the  door  when  he 
saw  some  one  beckonin'  to  him  from  the  turnpike.  I  must 
hurry  over  this  part,  Grace,"  speaking  in  a  faint,  rapid 
voice,  as  though  the  words  hurt  her.  "  Neighbor  Jackson 
found  Increase  there;  he  had  been  shot  in  the  leg,  and  had 
crawled  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  woods  in 
quest  of  help — "  Mrs.  Palmer  paused  here. 

"  But  Hope,  grandma,  what  became  of  her  f" 

"/She  saw  the  Injins  first.  They  both  fired  together; 
but  Hope  saw  that  one  had  aimed  at  the  heart  of  Increase, 
and  she  sprang  before  them !  Child,  she  saved  his  life  with 
her  own  /" 

"Oh,  grandma!"  Grace  covered  her  white  face  with  her 
hands. 

The  old  woman  rose  up  and  walked  back  and  forth, 
wringing  her  aged  hands  and  sobbing  passionately  for  the 
sister,  whose  grave  more  than  seventy  springs  had  quilted 
with  fresh  grasses. 

"  It  broke  all  our  hearts,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Palmer.  "I  shall 
never  forget  the  moment  when  they  brought  her  back  to 
the  house,  with  her  damp  hair  lyin'  all  about  her  white, 
cold  face — she  that  went  out  of  it  so  full  of  life  and  joy  an 
hour  before !" 

"Was  she  quite  dead,  grandma?' 

"  Not  quite,  child.     She  opened  her  eyes  onee,  and  knew 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  217 

us  all  and  what  had  happened.  It  was  about  an  hour  after 
she  was  brought  home,  and  the  boys  had  got  back  then. 
She  said  good-by  to  us  all,  and  told  Increase  that  the  home 
she  was  goin'  to  would  be  brighter  than  the  one  he  had 
promised  her  on  earth,  and  that  he  must  not  grieve  for  her, 
for  every  day  and  every  night  would  bring  him  a  little 
nearer  to  her,  and  then — oh,  Grace,  I  can't  tell  any  more!" 
for  Mrs.  Comfort  Palmer  had  walked  down  the  years  to  the 
land  of  her  youth,  and  the  bitter  anguish  of  that  hour 
came  back  to  her  when  she  stood  by  the  bedside  of  her 
murdered  sister. 

And  Grace  wept  too,  for  this  great-aunt  of  hers  whose 
life  had  gone  out  in  its  first  years  of  blossoming,  and  it  was 
a  long  time  before  she  asked  softly  : 

"  And  Increase,  grandma  ?" 

"  It  didn't  kill  him,  but  that  was  all.  He  was  laid  up 
at  our  house  for  four  months  with  a  broken  limb  and  a 
brain  fever.  We  thought  he'd  never  get  up  again ;  but  he 
did  at  last,  and  even  mother,  though  her  heart  was  broken, 
used  to  try  to  comfort  him  when  he'd  say : 

"  '  If  it  had  only  been  me  instead ;  if  /  could  only  have 
given  up  my  life  for  Hope's !' 

"The  next  spring  the  doctor  said  he  must  take  a  sea 
voyage ;  and  we  persuaded  him  to  go  in  a  tradin'  vessel  to 
Virginny.  He  got  stronger  with  new  life  and  change  of 
scene;  and  used  to  write  mother  and  me  cheery  letters, 
though  he  al'ays  spoke  of  Hope  with  a  sweet,  sad  tender 
ness,  which  showed  that  his  heart  carried  her  memory  in 
the  hope  and  trust  that  God  would  have  us  carry  those  who 
are  with  Him. 

"  At  last,  in  the  next  fall,  Increase  started  for  home. 
But,  in  a  heavy  storm  at  sea,  the  ship  foundered  and  went 

10 


218  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

down.  There  was  only  a  few  of  the  crew  saved,  and  in  a 
little  more  than  a  year  Increase  was  with  Hope ;  and  for 
the  pleasant  home  he  was  to  have  made  her  on  earth,  they 
had  one  not  builded  with  hands." 

"But  its  builder  and  maker  was  God!"  answered  Grace, 
and  the  smile  was  holy  that  flashed  up  triumphant  through 
her  tears. 

"  IVe  rested  on  that  thought,  Grace,"  said  the  old  woman, 
wiping  her  wrinkled  face  stained  with  tears  for  the  sor 
rows  of  her  youth.  "Oh,  I  haven't  lived  ninety  years  to 
prove  the  God  I've  trusted  unfaithful  to  His  promises,  or 
that  He  ever  sends  a  burden  so  heavy  that  He  isn't  able 
and  ready  to  carry  it  for  us." 

Grace  looked  at  her  grandmother.  The  passionate  grief 
of  that  aged  face  had  subsided,  and  the  calm  and  the  peace 
that  God  gives  had  taken  its  place. 

"  Oh,  grandmother !"  exclaimed  the  girl,  "  it's  a  good 
thing  to  go  down  to  old  age  bearing  such  testimony  as 
this!" 

"  Yes,"  smiled  the  pale  lips,  "  all  of  'em  got  to  the  end 
of  the  journey  long  ago,  and  left  me  far  behind.  But  they 
didn't  go  without  each  leavin'  a  signal  for  me,  and  I've 
followed  on  and  I  shall  be  with  'em  pretty  soon — pretty 
soon  now"  and  the  old  woman  repeated  the  words  as 
though  they  had  a  pleasant  sound  to  her;  and  Grace  looked 
at  her  grandmother  and  thought  that  the  smile  on  her  aged 
face  made  it  beautiful,  for  it  was  the  smile  of  a  heart  at 
peace  with  God! 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  219 


CHAPTER  XYL 

IT  was  quite  dark  when  Grace  set  out  from  her  grand 
mother's  for  home.  The  road  was  a  lonely  one,  lying  for  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  way  betwixt  open  pastures,  and 
then  suddenly  glancing  to  the  right,  for  nearly  half  a  mile, 
it  cut  through  some  half-cleared  land,  where  the  charred 
and  blackened  trunks  of  old  trees  rose  weird  and  ghastly 
in  the  dim  starlight. 

This  newly  opened  road  considerably  shortened  the  dis 
tance  home.  Perhaps  Grace  would  have  chosen  the  longer 
and  more  frequented  one,  had  she  not  been  preoccupied 
with  the  story  which  her  grandmother  told  her  that  after 
noon.  The  tragical  history  had  somehow  strangely  affected 
her.  The  face  of  the  great-aunt,  which  had  been  dust  so  many 
years  before  her  own  had  seen  the  light,  seemed  to  shine  in 
all  its  young,  sweet  beauty  before  her  thoughts,  as  she  went 
with  her  light  rapid  feet  down  the  road,  the  still  dark  pas 
ture  lying  on  either  hand,  and  overhead  the  large  autumn 
stars  in  a  sky  without  seam  or  faintest  puffing  of  cloud. 
But  when  she  came  to  the  point  where  the  road  turned 
abruptly  into  the  woodland,  and  the  black  shadows  and  the 
ghastly  trunks  of  the  trees  rose  suddenly  before  her,  Grace's 
thoughts  came  back  to  the  present  with  a  little  thrill  of  fear. 

It  was  a  gloomy  spot  enough  in  the  night,  furnishing 
just  the  right  sort  of  background  for  any  amount  of  fear 
ful  images  and  tragedies.  But  in  Grace  Palmer  both  super- 


220  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUB  FATHERS. 

stition  and  imagination  were  controlled  by  strong  moral 
forces  and  enlightened  judgment,  and  no  fear  of  spectral 
apparitions  haunted  her  thoughts.  Still  she  was  a  long 
distance  from  any  house ;  she  had  full  half  a  mile  to  walk 
before  the  road  opened  into  the  meadows,  and  she  entered 
among  the  weird  shadows  with  a  little  chill  of  dread. 

Her  swift  feet  had  not  carried  her  far,  when  a  dark  figure 
sprang  suddenly  out  from  the  woods  into  the  path  and 
approached  her.  Her  heart  stood  still ;  so  did  she ;  a  cold 
shudder  made  a  faintness  in  every  limb,  and  prevented  her 
moving. 

The  dark,- swift  object  drew  close  to  her.  She  caught 
under  the  dim  starlight  a  sailor's  tarpaulin,  but  could  not 
distinguish  the  features  beneath.  A  voice  spoke  now  low, 
but  with  that  prompt  authority  which  sudden  exigencies  in 
life  sometimes  confer. 

"  Face  about  and  get  out  of  these  woods,  ma'am,  as 
quick  as  your  feet'll  take  you ;  there's  breakers  ahead  1" 

Something  in  the  man's  manner  or  voice  carried  in  the 
darkness  a  conviction  of  its  truth,  and  Grace  turned  to  fly. 
Then  in  her  bewilderment  and  terror  a  fear  came  over  her 
that  this  might  be  a  snare  laid  to  entrap  her,  and  she 
turned  back  again  irresolute. 

"  Hurry  off,"  said  the  rapid  voice,  authoritatively.  "  Take 
the  road  to  the  right,  for  your  life  or  more  depends  on't." 

She  felt  the  honest  truth  of  the  voice,  and  yet  how  came 
it  there,  whose  was  it,  and  what  did  it  know  of  her  or 
dangers  that  beset  her?  Grace  did  not  yield  to  her  in 
stincts,  but  to  these  second  thoughts.  She  stood  still 
quaking  in  every  limb  ;  but  she  spoke : 

"  I  shall  not  stir  one  step  until  I  know — " 

The  voice  broke  in  here,  full  of  indignant  eagerness : 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR   FATHERS.  221 

"  Girl,"  it  said,  "  you're  wastin'  time  that  more'n  your 
life  hangs  on.  If  I'd  wanted  to  harm  ye,  I  shouldn't  sot 
about  it  in  this  way,  for  the  farther  I  got  ye  into  the  woods 
the  better.  But  I'm  here  to  serve  ye,  and  to  save  ye,  too, 
from  one  o'  the  foulest  plots  that  ever  the  devil  put  into  a 
man's  brain.  But  every  minute's  precious,  and  I'm  one 
agin  many,  and  in  the  name  of  all  that  a  woman  holds 
sacrec^  don't  stand  talkin'  here !" 

Grace  could  not  doubt  longer.  She  turned,  and  her 
light  feet  hardly  grazed  the  ground,  but  her  loud  heart 
fairly  choked  her  breath,  and  a  horrible  fear  gave  new 
strength  and  speed  to  her  flight. 

The  man  in  the  tarpaulin  stood  still  a  moment,  and  then 
his  ear  caught  a  sound  of  cautious  steps  on  the  dry  grass; 
he  sprang  behind  the  stump  of  an  old  oak,  and  crouching 
down,  was  effectually  concealed  from  sight  in  a  moment. 
He  had  barely  done  this,  when  some  one  came  with  swift 
but  almost  noiseless  steps  into  the  road,  carrying  a  tin 
lantern,  which,  as  he  held  it  out  and  peered  up  and  down 
the  road,  disclosed  the  wily,  cunning  face  of  the  half-breed 
who  lived  with  Ralph  Jarvys. 

The  small,  keen  eyes  of  the  Indian  had  the  look  of  a 
dog's  when  it  has  scented  the  game ;  he  placed  his  hand 
over  his  mouth  and  whistled — not  loud  ;  the  note  was  soft 
and  incisive,  and  could  have  reached  to  a  great  distance. 
A  moment  later,  two  men  rushed  up  from  below  and  joined 
the  half-breed ;  one  of  them  asked,  not  loud  but  eager : 

"  Have  you  scented  the  game  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  it  seems  to  have  got  scared  and  took  to 
flight.  I  jist  caught  sight  of  it  runnm'  towards  the  pas 
tures." 

"  This  dark  hole  must  have  frightened  her,  Tim,  afore 


222  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHEES. 

she'd  got  far  into  it,"  said  a  voice,  which  might  easily  have 
been  recognised  as  the  one  that  had  held  a  conference  with 
Richard  Jarvys  nearly  two  weeks  before  under  the  pines 
on  the  rocks  by  the  Sound.  "  After  her,  all  hands  ;  we'll 
bag  her  }7et;"  and  the  three  men  started  on  the  road  over 
which  the  trembling  limbs  of  Grace  Palmer  had  sped  less 
than  two  minutes  before. 

"  There's  a  shot  in  this  'ere  musket  that'll  have  some- 
thin'  to  say  fust,  as  true  as  my  mother's  last  blessin',"  mur 
mured  the  sailor  behind  the  oak  stump,  and  he  plunged 
out  and  hurried  after  the  men,  and  the  sound  of  their 
heavy  feet  drowned  his  that  came  after. 

Grace  Palmer  heard  the  men  behind  her,  and  an  oath  of 
triumph  as  they  first  caught  sight  of  her  white  dress. 

"  God  help  me  !"  cried  the  poor  girl,  as  she  panted  for 
ward.  But  they  gained  on  her.  She  was  no  match  for  the 
half-breed,  who  outstripped  the  others  in  the  race.  He 
had  thrown  away  his  lantern  now,  and  seemed  to  skim  the 
ground.  Grace  heard  him  close  behind  her,  and  twice  her 
shrieks  for  help  rang  out  and  curdled  the  night  with  their 
loud  horror.  But  the  nearest  farm-house  was  a  third  of  a 
mile  distant ;  she  could  not  hope  it  would  reach  the  ears  of 
its  inmates,  and  the  next  moment  she  was  clutched  about 
the  waist  by  a  pair  of  strong,  wiry  arms,  in  whose  grasp 
she  wrestled  and  struggled  vainly. 

"I've  got  her  fast,"  cried  the  half-breed,  and  the  others 
came  up,  and  another  pair  of  arms  encircled  her  roughly, 
and  a  voice  which  froze  the  blood  of  Grace  Palmer  with 
horror  as  she  recognised  it,  cried  out : 

"  Ha,  ha !  my  pretty  bird ;  you  can  fly  as  well  as  you  can 
threaten;  but  wings  nor  tongue  won't  serve  you  now. 
You're  done  for  it  this  time." 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  223 

Hardly  had  this  taunt  crossed  the  wretch's  lips  when  the 
sharp  report  of  a  musket  filled  the  air.  Then  the  half- 
breed  loosened  his  hold  on  Grace  with  a  low  yell  of 
anguish. 

"  To  the  boat,  lieutenant,  or  we  shall  be  dead  men !" 
cried  one  of  the  trio,  in  a  voice  of  terror. 

In  his  surprise  and  alarm  the  lieutenant  had  so  far 
released  Grace  that  she  struck  off  his  arms  and  sprang  out 
from  them  ;  he  seized  her  again ;  there  was  a  second  shot 
and  a  shout  in  the  woods.  There  was  no  doubt  now  but 
their  nefarious  plan  was  discovered;  a  panic  seized  the 
men,  for  the  three  took  to  the  woods,  and  a  little  later  the 
sailor  came  up  and  found  Grace  Palmer  lying  senseless  on 
the  ground. 

"  Father,  it's  more'n  time  Grace  was  home,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Palmer,  glancing  up  at  the  tall  clock  in  one  corner  of 
the  kitchen,  and  then  lifting  up  a  handful  of  dried  currants 
from  a  large  wooden  pail  which  she  was  "  picking  over," 
before  stowing  away  for  winter  use. 

The  Deacon  glanced  up  from  his  paper.  He  was  so 
occupied  just  then  with  the  movements  of  the  army  on  the 
upper  Hudson  that  he  was  not  in  a  very  receptive  or  sym 
pathetic  mood  for  anything  else. 

"  Oh,  well,  don't  fret,  mother,"  he  said,  in  a  half-absent 
way.  "  Folks  don't  usually  get  home,  especially  women, 
as  soon  as  they  expect  to,  when  they  go  a  visitin'.  They're 
gettin'  General  Burgoyne  into  tight  quarters  every  day. 
The  chances  seem  to  grow  smaller  of  his  army's  ever  seein' 
Albany." 

Mrs.  Palmer  heaved  a  long  deep  sigh.  "  I  hope  my 
poor  Robert  will  get  along  safe,"  she  said,  after  the  fashion 


224:  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

of  a  woman  going  at  once  from  the  general  to  the  particu 
lar  case,  which  of  course  showed  she  was  not  always  full 
of  Spartan  patriotism  and  sublime  self-abnegation ;  but 
then  she  was  Robert's  mother,  and  she  couldn't  forget 
that  always,  even  for  her  country. 

The  Deacon  did  not  catch  this  remark,  or  he  certainly 
would  have  responded  to  it.  Mrs.  Palmer  heaved  another 
sigh,  and  looked  at  her  youngest  son,  who  sat  on  a  low 
stool  at  her  right  hand,  and  who  was  just  then  engaged  in 
smothering  a  yawn. 

"  Benny,"  she  said,  briskly,  "  get  a  light.  It's  high  time 
you  was  in  bed,  after  such  a  tramp  as  you've  had  over  to 
the  meadows  after  cranberries." 

"I  ain't  sleepy  one  bit,"  stoutly  asseverated  the  boy, 
opening  his  black  round  eyes  to  their  fullest  power  of  dis 
tension.  "  Let  me  sit  up  till  Grace  comes.  I  want  to  say 
my  prayers  to  her." 

"Benny,  you  a  Deacon's  son,  and  talk  about  sayin' 
your  prayers  to  your  sister !" 

Benjamin  Palmer  was  not  one  to  yield  his  ground  with 
out  a  protest. 

"  If  I  mean  right,  it  don't  make  so  much  difference  about 
the  words,  mother,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  oracular  gravity, 
that  sat  strangely  on  his  young  and  roguish  face.  "  And 
Grace  has  been  teachin'  me  a  new  hymn  a  great  deal  pret 
tier  than  '  Now  I  lay  me,'  and  I  can't  go  to  sleep  till  I've 
said  it  to  her." 

"Oh,  Benny!"  This  ejaculation  was  a  laconic  admis 
sion  that  the  young  gentleman  had  gained  his  point,  and  it 
very  frequently  terminated  any  small  difference  of  opinion 
betwixt  Benny  and  his  mother;  the  ejaculation  being 
usually  accompanied  by  a  little  covert  smile  and  fond 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  225 

glance  on  the  mother's  part  which   gave  the  words  an 
emphasis  Benny  was  quite  shrewd  enough  to  interpret. 

Another  half  hour  ticked  itself  slowly  away.  The  Dea 
con  read  his  paper.  Mrs.  Palmer  diligently  blew  the  dust 
out  of  handfuls  of  currants;  and  Benny  watched  his 
parents  with  sleepy  eyes,  and  gaped,  and  nodded,  and  sat 
remarkably  straight,  and  looked  fierce  with  animation 
whenever  his  mother's  eyes  went  that  way.  At  last  Mrs. 
Palmer  spoke  again,  and  this  time  her  tones  had  the  effect 
of  thoroughly  rousing  the  Deacon  from  his  paper. 

"Father,  it's  gettin'  late,  and  I  do  feel  uneasy  about 
Grace.  It  isn't  safe  for  girls  in  these  war  times  to  be  out 
nights,  with  Long  Island  traders  all  round  the  country 
and  the  enemy  landin'  every  few  nights  on  our  coast.  I've 
no  doubt  it  was  a  Britisher  came  here  the  other  night  when 
we  was  off  to  meetin',  and  I  can't  feel  right  to  have  her  out 
after  dark." 

"  Wall,  'tisn't  likely  Nathaniel  '11  let  her  walk  home 
alone." 

"  Where's  she  to  come  across  him,  I  wonder  ?"  the  berries 
making  a  black  cataract  from  her  palm  to  the  pan. 

"  Why,  she's  gone  over  to  the  tavern,  ain't  she  ?" 

"  Father  !"  there  were  several  meanings  in  Mrs.  Palmer's 
emphasis  of  that  correlative,  "  I  do  believe  that  paper  has 
crazed  your  wits.  Don't  you  tnow  I  told  you  at  dinner 
that  Grace  had  gone  over  to  grandma's  to  do  up  little 
chores  round  and  put  her  to  rights  afore  cold  weather  sets 
in?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember  now,"  said  the  Deacon,  a  little 
apologetically.  "  Strange  it  should  have  slipped  my  mind. 
It's  a  lonely  road  from  mother's — Grace  ought  to  be  home 
before  this  " 

10* 


226  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  I  hope  she  won't  take  the  new  road  that  leads  round 
by  Cranberry  Meadows.  Them  half-cleared  woods  is  an 
awful  place  in  the  night — awful !" 

The  Deacon  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 

"I  don't  know  but  I'd  better  set  out  for  her?"  he 
remarked,  uneasily. 

"  If  you  ventur'  out,  you'll  be  sure  to  be  laid  up  with 
the  rheumatis,  it's  so  late  in  the  fall." 

Ten  minutes  more  pulsed  slowly  away  in  the  old  clock — 
ten  minutes  that  were  passed  in  more  anxiety  on  the  part  of 
the  Deacon  and  his  wife  than  either  would  have  liked  to 
acknowledge ;  and  then  there  was  a  loud  knock  at  the  door. 
When  the  Deacon  opened  it,  his  first  glance  met  a  man  in 
a  sailor's  garb  bearing  a  limp  figure  in  his  arms.  Then 
Mrs.  Palmer's  shriek  rang  through  the  kitchen.  She  had 
followed  her  husband  half  way  to  the  door. 

"  Oh,  father,  they  have  killed  our  child  !" 

It  was  such  a  cry  as  one  would  pray  never  to  hear  again. 
The  sailor  came  right  in. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  he  said,  in  his  loud,  hearty  tones,  that 
carried  conviction  with  them.  "A  dash  of  cold  water  or  a 
swig  of  brandy  '11  bring  the  breath  back,  for  she's  had 
enough  to  skeer  it  out  of  her !" 

They  laid  Grace  down  on  the  settle,  the  fair  face  droop 
ing  deathlike  on  the  cushions  of  red  and  yellow  patchwork. 
Benny  brought  a  pitcher  of  water,  and  stood  looking  on 
while  his  father  and  the  sailor  bathed  the  girl's  temples. 
For  once  Mrs.  Palmer's  practical  efficiency  seemed  to  have 
forsaken  her.  She  had  started  for  a  decanter  of  brandy, 
but  her  limbs  trembled  so,  she  had  fallen  into  a  chair 
by  the  door ;  and  there  the  poor  mother  sat,  with  her  face 
white  as  her  daughter's,  watching  for  the  first  sign  of 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  227 

returning  consciousness.  It  was  not  long  in  coming.  A 
start  and  a  shudder  ;  then  Grace  Palmer  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  my  daughter,  my  daughter  1"  sobbed  her  mother, 
rushing  forward. 

Grace  stared  around  her  from  one  to  the  other.  Then  a 
chill  of  terror,  or  of  some  awful  memory,  convulsed  her. 
She  sprang  up,  and  cried  out : 

"  Oh,  father,  am  I  safe  now — haven't  they  got  me  ?" 

"  Safe  under  your  father's  roof,  my  darlin'  child !" 
answered  the  fervid  voice  of  the  Deacon.  "Don't  be 
frightened,  Grace,  nobody  shall  harm  you  here."  He  had 
soothed  her  to  sleep  sometimes  in  his  strong  arms  with  just 
that  tone. 

"  But  how  came  I  here  ?"  with  the  fright  still  in  her 
face. 

It  was  time  now  for  the  sailor  to  step  forward : 

"  It  was  I  that  rescued  ye,  ma'am,"  he  said,  taking  off  his 
tarpaulin  with  instinctive  courtesy,  and  his  manner  had 
that  unconscious  dignity  which  the  joy  of  a  good  deed 
done  confers  on  the  roughest  and  coarsest  man.  "  I  was 
on  hand  to  serve  and  to  save  ye,  as  I  told  ye  in  the  woods, 
though  you  wasn't  over  quick  to  act  on  my  caution  ;  and  no 
wonder,  either !" 

Grace  began  to  realize  the  truth  now.  She  sat  up  and 
looked  in  the  honest,  weatheV-beaten  face  of  her  pre 
server  : 

"  Oh,  father,  he  has  saved  me  from  a  fate  worse  than 
death  !"  she  sobbed. 

"  The  Lord  reward  you,"  answered  the  broken  voice  of 
Deacon  Palmer.  "  You're  welcome  to  anything  I  possess 
in  this  world ;  but  that  won't  pay  you  for  savin'  my  child." 

"  I  don't  want  any  pay,  sir.     I  got  wind  some  days  ago 


I 

228  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

that  there  was  to  be  foul  play  along  the  coast,  and  that  a 
woman  was  to  be  the  victim  of  some  infernal  scheme  of 
revenge  and  villany,  and  I  took  a  vow  that  so  long  as  I'd 
got  a  right  arm  to  help  her  she  shouldn't  be  smuggled  off 
without  my  feelin'  I'd  done  all  one  man  could  to  save 
her." 

"  Oh,  young  man,  have  you  got  a  mother  ?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Palmer,  as  she  turned  round  from  administering  a 
cordial  to  Grace.  "  If  you  have,  she  can  best  tell  how  I 
feel  towards  you  this  hour  for  savin'  my  daughter !" 

The  young  sailor  drew  his  hard  hand  across  his  eyes  : 
"  It's  more'n  ten  years,"  he  said,  "  since  she  laid  down 
where  the  singin'  birds  couldn't  wake  her ;  but  if  I  ever 
did  a  good  act  or  a  kind  turn  to  a  mother  in  distress,  I  did 
it  for  the  sake  of  my  mother  and  the  memory  of  her  last 
blessin'." 

The  cordial  had  revived  Grace,  for  she  had  the  fine  recu 
perative  powers  of  youth  and  health.  She  sat  up  now 
and  leaned  her  head  on  her  father's  shoulder. 

"  Now,  friend,  let  us  know  what  has  happened  and  who 
has  tried  to  wrong  my  child  ?"  asked  the  Deacon,  and  his 
eyes  flashed  fire. 

"  Let  the  lady  speak  first,  and  then  I'll  add  whatever's 
fittin',"  subjoined  the  sailor. 

So  Grace  told  her  story  briefly  from  the  time  she  left 
her  grandmother's  door  until  she  sank  fainting  on  the 
ground,  just  after  her  pursuers,  seized  with  a  panic,  had 
made  their  escape.  The  Deacon  did  not  speak  when  his 
daughter  concluded,  but  he  turned  to  the  sailor  with  a 
face  that  his  wife  and  daughter  hardly  knew,  it  was  so 
stern. 

It  was  evident  the  Deacon  was  bent  on  having  justice 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  229 

dealt  out  to  these  villains.  The  sailor  understood  the  look 
and  gesture  of  his  host. 

"  I  sail  under  his  Majesty's  flag,  and  I'll  be  true  to  the 
colors  I  hang  out ;  so  I  can't  be  givin'  names  or  tell  much 
of  a  yarn.  But  you  may  rely  on't,  there  was  somebody 
but  Britishers  on  the  Long  Island  side  engaged  in  this 
foul  play ;  and  if  you've  got  an  enemy  hereabouts  that 
bears  you  a  grudge  for  any  old  scores,  you'd  better  keep  a 
sharp  eye  round  for  him." 

"  There's  them  Jarvyses,  father !"  interposed  Mrs. 
Palmer,  speaking  the  thought  of  both  the  Deacon  and 
Grace. 

A  gleam  of  intelligence  went  over  the  sailor's  features. 

"I've  my  reasons  for  not  tellin'  names,"  he  said.  "  I'd 
be  glad  enough  to  have  the  villains  brought  to  justice, 
but  you  wouldn't  be  likely  to  run  down  all  of  'em,  and,  as 
I  said,  I  can't  turn  agin  the  flag  I  sail  under.  All  I  can 
say  now  is,  that  within  the  last  two  weeks  I  had  a  chance 
to  learn  there  was  some  foul  play  brewin',  and  I  jest  pro 
mised  myself  to  keep  watch  and  turn  the  screw  the  wrong 
way  if  there  was  a  chance  when  the  time  came.  This 
mornin'  I  had  niy  suspicions  roused,  for  I  see  a  young 
head  and  an  old  'un  laid  together,  and  I  reckoned  they'd 
sail  under  sealed  orders  by  night.  They  put  off  and  I  fol 
lowed  'em,  keepin'  to  wind'ard,  and  gettin  to  shore  jist  after 
they  did,  and  havin'  a  good  place  for  eavesdropping  the 
whole  plan  was  mapped  out  before  me ;  and  black  enough 
it  was.  I'd  made  up  my  mind  to  take  a  comrade  into  my 
counsels,  but  there  wasn't  many  I  wanted  to  trust  with  this 
business,  and  the  one  I'd  counted  on  was  ordered  off,  so  I 
concluded  to  trust  my  own  right  arm  and  a  good  musket." 

"  Oh,  what  can  we  do  to  pay  you  I"  exclaimed  Grace. 


230  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"I've  had  pay  enough  already,"  answered  the  sailor, 
getting  up.  "  It's  time  for  me  to  be  off,  for  there  might 
come  an  idea  into  one  or  two  heads  which  wouldn't  be 
altogether  pleasant  for  me  if  I  was  out  of  my  quarters  at 
sunrise." 

"  But  you  won't  leave  without  letting  us  know  the  name 
of  the  man  to  whom  we  owe  so  much  ?" 

"  No  objections  to  that,  sir.  My  name  is  John  Watson. 
'Tisn't  of  much  account  in  the  world,  but  it  was  never 
siled  with  a  mean  deed  or  a  dishonest  one." 

"John  Watson — John  Watson  !"  repeated  the  Deacon, 
thoughtfully.  "  It  seems  to  me  I've  heard  that  ere 
name." 

"  Why,  father,"  interposed  Mrs.  Palmer  again,  as  she 
paused  midway  betwixt  the  pantry  and  the  table  with  a 
pumpkin-pie  in  one  hand  and  a  quadrant  of  cheese  in  the 
other,  for  she  was  resolved  that  the  preserver  of  her  child 
should  not  leave  her  roof  without  some  slight  demonstra 
tion  of  her  gratitude  in  the  shape  of  an  abundant  meal, 
"  don't  you  remember  that  George  Watson  used  to  talk 
about  a  young  brother,  John,  of  his'n  when  he  was  here  that 
last  summer  afore  he  took  to  followin'  the  seas  ?" 

Before  the  Deacon  could  answer,  the  sailor  put  his  hand 
to  his  forehead,  and  cried  out : 

"  Is  your  name  Deacon  Daniel  Palmer  ?" 

"  That's  it,"  said  the  old  man,  his  face  growing  eager 
with  a  suspicion  and  a  hope. 

"  Give  us  your  hand,  Deacon  Palmer !"  cried  the  sailor, 
in  a  voice  that,  with  all  its  sudden  surprise  of  joy,  was  not 
quite  steady.  And  as  the  two  hard  hands  gripped  each 
other,  he  continued : 

"  There  isn't  a  man  in  the  world  whom  I'd  sooner  done 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  231 

a  good  turn  to  !  I'm  the  brother  of  George  Watson,  the 
lad  that  worked  for  ye  through  five  harvistin's !" 

This  "  lad"  was  the  one  whose  testimony  lawyer  Dem- 
ing  had  regarded  as  so  important  in  the  impending  trial. 

"  Where  is  your  brother  to  be  found  ?"  demanded  the 
Deacon. 

"  Somewhere  under  seas  so  deep  that  no  line  will  ever 
sound  them,"  answered  the  sailor,  much  affected ;  and  after 
a  little  pause,  he  continued :  "  He  was  took  out  to  sea  with 
the  yellow  fever,  and  they  buried  him  somewhere  in  the 
Injin  ocean.  But  he  al'ays  said  that  you  was  the  best  cap'n 
he  ever  sailed  under;  and  I've  heerd  him  declare  many 
a  time  that  he'd  stuck  by  you  to  the  last,  if  he  hadn't 
been  took  with  a  hankerin'  for  the  seas." 

"  Poor  George !  he  was  a  likely,  honest  lad,"  subjoined 
the  Deacon,  all  sense  of  his  own  loss  swallowed  up  for  the 
moment  in  sorrow  for  the  young  sailor's  untimely  fate. 

After  this  there  were  many  questions  to  be  asked  and 
answered.  The  Deacon  had  a  hope  that  the  young  sailor 
could  furnish  some  evidence  for  his  side  at  the  trial ;  but 
he  had  never  heard  the  conversation  betwixt  his  grand 
father  and  his  brother  which  the  latter  had  related  to  John 
Deming.  But  he  listened  with  intense  interest  to  the  Dea 
con's  story,  and  in  the  early  part  of  it  interrupted  him 
abruptly  with : 

"  Has  this  old  scoundrel  got  a  son  ?" 

"  Yes ;  a  tall,  well-favored  young  man  of  about  twenty- 
seven.  His  name  is  Richard  Jarvys." 

The  sailor  slapped  his  hand  on  his  knee  and  gave  a 
long  significant  whistle.  He  said  nothing.  There  was  no 
need  he  should. 

"If  George  was  alive,  he'd  set  sail  from  the  farthest 


232  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUE  FATHEKS. 

corner  of  the  earth  to  get  the  claws  of  this  old  rascal  off 
your  place,"  was  the  sailor's  comment  when  his  host  con 
cluded.  "  But  he's  where  his  word  can't  be  of  avail  now  ; 
and  though  we  sail  under  different  flags,  you'd  have  mine 
as  free  as  his'n  if  it  would  be  of  service  to  you." 

"  Thank  you  again,  my  friend.  How  is  it  that  you, 
born  in  America,  have  entered  his  Majesty's  service  ?" 

"  My  mother  was  an  Englishwoman,  sir,  and  her  brother 
sailed  for  twenty-five  years  in  a  British  man-of-war.  I 
went  with  him  in  his  last  voyage,  and  I've  sailed  under  the 
British  flag  ever  since." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  I  won't  quarrel  with  a  man  who's 
done  me  the  service  you  have  this  night,  because  he  differs 
from  me  in  opinion." 

And  then  Mrs.  Palmer  insisted  that  the  sailor  should 
not  leave  until  he  had  partaken  of  the  abundant  repast  she 
had  in  the  last  hour  spread  on  the  table.  During  the 
hurried  meal  the  Deacon  asked  his  guest  if  there  was  any 
probability  that  his  daughter  would  be  subjected  to  farther 
persecutions  from  the  same  source. 

"  Forewarned  is  forearmed,"  was  the  laconic  rejoinder. 
"  However,  you  won't  have  much  to  fear  from  one  of  the 
parties,  as  he's  ordered  off  to  New  York  this  week ;  and 
for  enemies  at  home,  you  can  set  a  watch  at  the  lights." 

When  his  guest  rose  to  depart,  the  Deacon  slipped  a 
purse  into  his  hand,  but  the  man  dropped  down  the  hard 
silver  on  the  table  in  a  very  decided  way. 

"  Deacon  Palmer,"  he  said,  "  I  owed  you  all  I've  done 
this  night  for  the  kindness  you  once  showed  to  poor 
George." 

"  Well,  if  you  won't  take  father's  gift,  you  won't  refuse 
mine !"  said  Grace,  and  she  pressed  into  his  hand  a  large 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  233 

gold  anchor  -with  a  quaint  tracery  of  leaves,  which  had 
belonged  to  her  mother's  father. 

The  sailor  received  this  with  manifest  pleasure. 

"  You  look  as  though  you  needed  a  good  night's  sleep 
to  take  the  fright  quite  out  of  you,"  he  said,  looking  in 
her  white  face. 

And  he  left  the  dwelling  with  the  prayers  and  blessings 
of  its  grateful  inmates  on  his  head.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Palmer 
did  not  retire  that  night,  late  as  it  was,  until  they  had  talked 
over  the  matter  of  Grace's  attempted  abduction,  and  they 
were  well  satisfied  who  was  one  of  the  abettors,  if  not 
instigators  of  the  plot. 

There  was  no  use,  however,  of  making  any  public  accu 
sations,  as  nothing  could  be  proven  ;  but  the  Deacon  con 
cluded  that  he  would  set  a  couple  of  watch  dogs  to  guard 
his  house  at  night,  and  have  a  couple  of  men  sleep  under 
his  roof  with  muskets  loaded  in  case  of  an  attack. 

The  next  morning  the  joyful  tidings  of  the  surrender  of 
Burgoyne's  army  sounded  its  mighty  tocsin  of  triumph 
through  the  land.  It  was  the  greatest  blow  that  had  yet 
been  struck  for  freedom  ;  that  mighty  army,  composed  of 
the  veteran  soldiers  of  Europe,  had  at  last  laid  down  its 
arms  before  the  yeomanry  and  militia  whom  they  had 
treated  with  every  mark  of  scorn  and  contempt. 

It  was  a  proud  day  for  the  young  land  of  America,  and 
her  people  held  jubilee  in  their  pleasant  homes  and  under 
their  waving  orchard-trees  that  autumn. 


234  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XVK 

IT  was  midwinter  again,  and  the  path  of  our  story  leads 
now  through  the  darkest  night  that  ever  settled  down  on 
the  army  of  the  Revolution,  or  gathered  its  blackness  with 
out  light  of  moon  or  stars  about  its  beloved  Commander, 
George  Washington. 

Sung  in  sweet  song,  as  it  has  been ;  told  in  stirring 
story,  as  it  must  be  while  time  shall  last ;  the  sublime  hero 
ism  and  endurance  of  this  man  and  his  soldiers  during  the 
winter  at  Valley  Forge  transcend  all  power  of  lip  or  pen. 
We,  the  rightful  heirs  of  that  glorious  inheritance  our 
fathers  bought  for  us  with  such  a  price  of  suffering,  read 
in  our  fair  and.  stately  homes  of  those  bitter,  bitter  days 
and  nights — of  those  half-naked,  starving,  freezing,  dying 
men — and  wonder  that  any  love  of  country  or  any  exalted 
spirit  of  sacrifice  could  have  induced  them  to  remain 
through  that  awful  winter  at  Valley  Forge. 

Most  wonderful,  too,  is  the  power  of  that  grave,  calm, 
silent  man,  over  his  army,  that  it  held  to  him  with  such 
loyal  faith  and  love  through  all  that  time  of  intrigue,  and 
jealousy,  and  base  calumny,  by  which  those  in  high  places 
sought  to  ruin  him. 

With  a  large  party  in  Congress  plotting  his  destruction, 
with  calumnies  industriously  inculcated  to  weaken  the 
nation's  hope  and  faith  in  him  ;  his  motives  impugned  and 
his  military  course  condemned ;  with  neither  money,  nor 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  235 

food,  nor  clothing  for  his  army ;  not  daring  to  let  the 
country  know  the  weakness  of  that  army,  because  the 
enemy  would  thus  obtain  knowledge  of  it  which  must 
result  in  its  speedy  destruction — George  Washington  shines 
down  on  us  as  an  example  of  grand  heroism,  and  patience, 
and  self-sacrifice,  to  which  all  ages  and  all  history  must  do 
reverence. 

It  was  midwinter  again,  and  Mrs.  Palmer  set  a  fresh 
forestick  to  a  pyramid  whose  foundation  was  laid  on  her 
brass  andirons,  and  then  went  to  the  stairs  and  called,  in 
that  slight  note  of  irritation  which  is  certain  to  creep  into 
the  voice  of  the  most  amiable  of  housekeepers  when  there 
is  a  little  jar  in  the  domestic  machinery  : 

"  Grace  !  Grace !     Won't  you  come  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  mother."  The  brave,  sweet  voice  was  a  pleasant 
thing  to  hear. 

And  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  was  Grace  Palmer,  as  she 
came  down  stairs  a  moment  later,  with  a  spray  of  green 
leaves  and  partridge  berries  in  her  smooth  bands  of  hair, 
just  a  pretty  suggestion  of  summer,  and  seeming  to  a  fine 
instinct  a  type  of  the  delicacy  and  grace  of  its  wearer. 

"  Grace,"  said  her  mother,  "  I've  got  more  on  my  hands 
than  I  can  carry  this  afternoon." 

"  Anything  new,  mother,"  her  voice  promising  aid  and 
sympathy. 

"  Well,  that  yeast  hasn't  turned  out  as  I  expected,  and 
I'm  half  afraid  to  set  the  cake  a  risin'  with  it,  and  there's 
twenty  pound  o'  candles  to  dip ;  I  want  you  to  twist  the 
wicks  if  you  ain't  busy  about  anything  but  studyin'." 

"  That  was  all,  mother ;  my  books  can  wait  for  another 
time,"  taking  the  candle-rods  and  the  ball  of  wick  from 
the  table  on  which  her  mother  had  just  placed  them, 


236  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

and  setting  herself  down  diligently  to  work  before  the 
fire. 

"  Grace,"  continued  her  mother,  brushing  away  a  small 
sifting  of  ashes  from  a  corner  of  the  hearth,  "  I  can't  see  for 
my  part  what  in  the  world  you  can  find  to  study  any  lon 
ger.  Seems  to  me  your  head  must  be  stock  full  by  this 
time.  I  declare  it  makes  mine  ache  to  think  of  bein'  such 
a  '  knowledge  box.'  " 

A  low,  amused  laugh  trickled  out  of  Grace's  lips  at  her 
mother's  comments. 

"  I  shall  have  to  know  a  great  deal  more  than  I  do  now 
before  my  head  troubles  me  on  account  of  any  pressure  of 
knowledge,"  she  said. 

"  Wall,  maybe  you're  in  the  right  on't ;  but  it  does  sort 
of  seem  wastin'  time  that  might  be  put  to  good  use  piecin' 
bedquilts.  It  oughtn't  to  be  expected  that  women  should 
be  eddicated  like  parsons  and  lawyers,  and  in  my  day  it 
was  thought  enough  to  have  a  girl  take  two  or  three  quar 
ters  in  writing  and  'rithmetic,  after  she'd  got  through  the 
Bible  and  spellin'  book." 

"  But,  mother,"  commenced  Grace,  and  then  she  paused. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  answered  Mrs.  Palmer,  with  a  little 
maternal  vanity,  "  Major  Dudley  expects  to  make  a  lady 
of  you ;  and  if  I  say  it,  that  shouldn't,  Grace,  he  won't 
have  much  to  do  there ;  and  I  don't  mean  to  set  my  face 
against  this  studyin' ;  only  in  my  day  it  would  have  been 
considered  a  dreadful  waste  of  time — dreadful  /" 

We  have  no  doubt  that  Grace  would  have  been  able  to 
defend  her  own  side  with  force  and  logic ;  but  at  that 
moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door — one  of  those  kind 
that  have  business  and  authority  in  their  very  sound. 

Mrs.  Palmer  opened  it.     A  couple  of  men  stood  there, 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  237 

who  informed  her  that  they  were  two  of  a  number  of  Com 
missioners  appointed  by  Congress  to  go  through  the  States 
and  collect  whatever  they  could  from  the  inhabitants  for 
the  relief  of  the  army  at  Valley  Forge. 

The  appeal  was  one  that  met  a  quick  response  in  the 
hearts  of  both  mother  and  daughter.  Mrs.  Palmer  invited 
the  men  in  at  once,  and  inquired  what  was  needed  most. 
She  was  willing  to  give  anything  she  had. 

"  Everything's  needed  most,  ma'am,"  said  the  smaller  of 
the  two  men — a  voluble,  active,  available  sort  of  person, 
who  probably  had  been  selected  for  his  present  mission  on 
account  of  these  very  qualities.  "  We  want  straw  for  our 
soldiers  to  sleep  on,  and  blankets  to  cover  'em,  and  shoes 
and  stockings  for  their  feet,  and  clothes  for  their  backs. 

"We  want  linen  and  medicine  for  our  wounded,  and 
beef,  and  pork,  and  vegetables,  and  flour,  for  the  men  that 
have  left  their  homes  and  given  their  lives  for  our  country, 
and  that  are  starving  and  freezing  to  death  at  Valley  Forge." 

"  Dear  me !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  is  it  so  bad  as 
that?" 

"  It's  worse  than  that,  ma'am,"  continued  the  voluble 
little  man ;  "  they've  exhausted  the  country  for  miles 
around,  and  there  isn't  anything  to  be  had  for  man  or 
beast.  I've  seen  sights  to  make  a  strong  man  cry  like  a 
child  when  I  was  at  camp.  I've  seen  our  brave  fellows 
shiverin'  and  bleedin'  in  this  bitter  cold,  without  a  mouth 
ful  to  eat,  and  markin'  every  step  they  took  in  the  snow 
with  their  blood.  I've  seen  them  lie  dyin'  on  the  frozen 
ground,  without  so  much  as  a  bit  of  straw  for  their  pil 
low " 

"  Oh,  don't  I  I  can't  hear  any  more  !"  broke  in  Grace's 
voice  here;  and  she  burst  into  tears. 


238  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

The  Commissioner  saw  he  had  stirred  up  the  right  spirit 
here,  and  only  stayed  to  inform  Mrs.  Palmer  that  he  should 
call  before  ten  the  next  morning  for  any  donations  she 
might  have  ready ;  then  hurried  off  with  his  compa 
nion. 

Mrs.  Palmer  did  not  dip  her  candles  or  set  her  cake  to 
rising  that  afternoon;  but  she  and  Grace  had  a  time  of 
great  bustle  and  activity  hunting  up  stores  of  old  linen, 
despoiling  old  oak  chests  of  their  treasures  of  blankets  and 
quilts,  and  adding  to  these  as  many  pairs  of  stockings  as 
could  possibly  be  spared  from  the  general  need. 

"  Here's  a  couple  more  of  pairs  that  I  footed  up  for  your 
father  last  fall,  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  as  she  added 
them  to  the  dark  blue  pile  in  the  corner.  "There's  no  use 
of  your  bringin'  for'ard  any  of  yours,  for  they  couldn't 
get  'em  on,  but  father  and  I  can  get  through  the  winter  on 
what's  left  with  careful  darnin',  and  there'll  be  time  enough 
to  spin  yarn  and  knit  up  a  fresh  batch  afore  another  winter 
sets  in.  I'll  set  a  patch  on  the  knee  o'  them  blue  trowsers 
of  your  father's  that  he'd  thrown  by,  and  put  another  on 
the  sleeve  of  that  old  cinnamon-colored  coat ;  and  if  they 
don't  look  very  scrumptious,  they'll  keep  one  jest  as  warm. 
I  declare,  Grace,  I  feel  as  if  we'd  no  right  to  go  to  our 
warm  feather  beds  nights  while  them  brave,  sufferin'  men 
haven't  got  anything  better  than  the  frozen  ground  to  lie 
down  on." 

"  And  they're  doing  it  for  us,  mother."  Then  her  thought 
took  a  sudden  leap ;  "  I  can't  be  thankful  enough  that 
Eobert  has  been  detained  under  General  Putnam  this  win 
ter  on  the  Hudson,  instead  of  undergoing  these  miseries  in 
the  camp  at  Valley  Forge.  Poor  boy  !  he  never  could 
have  stood  it !" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  239 

"  I  know  it ;  but,  Grace,  other  mothers  has  got  boys 
there  !"  Mrs.  Palmer's  voice  was  low  for  pity. 

"  And  other  sisters  brothers !"  added  Grace,  and  the 
thought  gave  her  pity  a  fresh  stimulus  as  she  hurried  from 
the  room  in  quest  of  whatever  could  possibly  be  spared 
from  the  family  stores. 

The  short  winter  day  had  gone  down  in  a  night  of  bitter 
cold.  Deacon  Palmer  had  returned  home  early,  and  had 
just  added  a  couple  of  smoked  beeves  to  a  large  pile  of 
varied  provisions  on  the  table,  and  was  preparing  to  bestow 
these  in  a  barrel  close  at  hand,  when  the  kitchen  door  was 
suddenly  burst  open,  and  the  next  moment  Mrs.  Comfort 
Palmer  came  right  into  the  kitchen,  drawing  her  breath 
painfully,  and  evidently  too  much  exhausted  to  speak. 
The  old  woman  had  not  left  her  house  for  years  in  the  win 
ter.  They  could  hardly  have  been  more  amazed  had  one 
from  the  dead  entered  the  room.  Grace  cried  out  first : 

"Grandma,  what  does  this  mean?"  and  she  hurried  to 
the  old  woman's  side  and  took  her  cold,  withered  hands 
in  her  soft,  warm  ones. 

They  brought  her  to  the  blazing  fire. 

"  It  can't  be  that  she's  walked  from  her  house  over  here, 
this  day !"  said  Mrs.  Palmer  to  her  husband,  while  Grace 
untied  her  grandmother's  bonnet. 

"  Yes,  I  have  ;  every  step,"  panted  the  old  woman. 

Each  looked  at  the  other  aghast,  wondering  she  had  not 
dropped  dead  on  the  snow-covered  road.  But  before  they 
could  speak  again,  Mrs.  Palmer  found  her  voice,  and  cried 
out  loud,  and  with  a  strange,  eager  triumph : 

"  I've  found  it,  Daniel ;  I've  found  it !" 

"Found  what,  mother?"  peering  into  her  face,  and  fear 
ing  that  his  mother  had  lost  her  reason. 


240  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  The  biUofsale.  It's  your'n  now  and  your  children's ; 
and  Ralph  Jarvys  can't  get  it  from  you  !" 

The  old  woman  fumbled  in  her  pocket  and  brought 
forth  an  old  yellow  document.  Her  hearers  stood  round 
her  pale  and  silent.  She  gave  the  paper  into  her  son's 
hands. 

"  There  it  is !"  she  said,   "  signed  and  sealed !" 

The  Deacon  went  to  the  light  without  speaking  one 
word.  The  eyes  of  his  wife  and  daughter  followed  him 
out  of  white  faces.  He  opened  the  paper  and  read  it  every 
word  before  he  spoke.  Then  he  looked  up : 

"It's  the  bill  of  sale,"  he  said,  simply;  "and  there's  no 
disputing  it.  The  homestead's  mine  now,  and  no  man  can 
take  it  from  me." 

They  were  not  a  demonstrative  people,  not  much  given 
to  the  outward  indulgence  of  emotion  of  any  sort ;  but  this 
sudden  lifting  of  the  weight  which  had  lain  for  years  on 
their  souls  was  more  than  they  could  bear  ;  father,  mother, 
and  daughter  sat  down  and  burst  into  tears,  and  for  a 
while  not  a  word  was  uttered.  At  last  the  Deacon's  voice 
thanked  God  for  the  good  fortune  which  He  had  sent  them. 

"  Why,  Daniel,  it  seems  as  though  it  couldn't  be  true, 
it's  so  good!"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  laughing  and  crying 
together. 

"That's  the  way  I  felt  when  I  first  came  across  it," 
interposed  the  old  woman.  "  You  see,  after  the  Commis 
sioners  called  to-day,  to  get  me  to  hunt  up  whatever  I'd 
got  to  give  to  the  army,  I  sot  a  while  thinkin',  and  finally 
I  concluded  I'd  go  up  stairs  and  ransack  the  old  sea-chest 
that  was  full  o'  blankets  my  mother  gave  me,  spun  and 
wove  by  her  own  hands  afore  I  was  married. 

"I'd  never  had  any  use  for  the  blankets,  and  I'd  sot 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  241 

a  good  deal  of  store  on  'em  for  Grace,  because  they  was 
her  great-grandmother's  make,  but  I  thought  they  could 
never  be  put  to  better  service  than  keepin'  the  men  warm 
who  was  fightin'  for  our  country.  So  I  went  up  garret 
and  was  a  rummagin'  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  old  chest, 
when  I  suddenly  knocked  somethin'  aside,  and  I  see  there 
was  a  false  bottom  in  the  old  chest,  and  there  was  a  paper 
in  one  corner  folded  carefully,  and  I  took  it  up  and  opened 
it;  and  as  soon  as  I  see  the  names  of  David  Palmer  and 
Samuel  Jarvys  signed  to  it,  the  light  flashed  right  into  my 
mind,  and  I  felt  it  was  the  Lord's  doin's ;  and  that  it  was 
His  blessed  will  that  my  eyes  should  live  to  see  the  words 
that  put  Daniel  out  of  the  clutches  of  them  that  had  plotted 
his  ruin." 

"  But  why  didn't  you  wait  to  send  for  father  instead  of 
coming  out  such  a  night,  grandma  ?"  asked  Grace. 

The  old  woman's  face  kindled. 

"  It  put  the  fire  o'  my  youth  in  my  veins,  seem'  that  ere, 
Grace.  I  couldn't  sleep  to-night  till  I'd  seen  it  safe  and 
sound  in  your  father's  hands ;  and  if  the  distance  had  been 
twice  as  far,  and  the  weather  twice  as  cold,  I  shouldn't 
a  minded  it  then." 

"  But  how  in  the  world,  mother,  did  it  get  in  the  bottom 
of  that  ere  trunk  ?"  inquired  the  Deacon. 

"  It  all  came  to  me  afore  I  got  down  from  the  garret. 
That  old  sea-chest  was  one  that  belonged  to  your 
grand'ther,  Daniel ;  and  a  few  days  afore  he  was  taken  sick 
he'd  brought  it  down  stairs  and  rummaged  it  over,  for 
it  was  filled  with  a  good  many  curi's  things  he'd  brought 
from  forei'n  lands,  for  he  followed  the  seas  when  he  was  a 
young  man ;  and  he  must  have  slipped  the  paper  into  the 
chest  the  night  after  he  bought  the  land,  thinking  he'd 

11 


242  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

have  it  handy  ;  and  I  remember  jest  where  the  chest  stood 
at  the  foot  of  his  bed;  and  after  he  was  gone,  I  concluded 
it  would  be  jest  the  thing  to  hold  the  blankets  and  comforts 
mother'd  given  me,  and  stowed  it  stock  full  and  had  it 
carried  up  garret,  where  it  stood  until  this  day." 

Of  the  happy  and  grateful  hearts  gathered  around  the 
supper  table ;  of  the  long,  pleasant  evening  which  followed, 
when  they  sat  around  the  wide  old  fireplace  and  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes  for  sympathy  in  the  good  fortune 
that  had  come  in  so  strange  and  unexpected  a  way  ;  of  all 
this,  dear  reader,  your  fancies  can  make  fairer  pictures  than 
my  pen  can. 

"You  and  I  will  lay  down  here  at  last,  Patience,"  said 
the  Deacon,  almost  gaily,  to  his  wife. 

"Don't  talk  of  dying  here,  father;  talk  of  living /"  and 
Grace's  soft  hand  slipped  into  her  father's. 

But  before  that  evening  closed  old  Mrs.  Palmer,  who 
had  been  refreshed  with  wine  and  cordials,  was  seized  with 
severe  shiverings  from  head  to  foot.  The  next  day  she 
was  unable  to  leave  her  bed.  The  long  walk  that  bitter 
day  proved  too  much  for  the  infirm  old  woman.  She 
lingered  for  several  weeks  "waiting  patiently,"  but  she 
never  rallied  again,  never  left  the  roof  to  restore  which  to 
her  son  she  had  paid  her  life;  and  before  the  birds  of 
another  spring  sang  their  promise  of  the  summer  she  heard 
God  call  her,  and  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  she  was  not 
afraid. 

Deacon  Palmer  of  course  made  no  further  effort  to  have 
the  impending  trial  delayed,  and  it  came  up  at  the  next 
session  of  the  county  court,  which  occurred  in  May.  Both 
the  Jarvyses  had  little  doubt  but  they  should  gain  the 
case  at  law  although  they  knew  they  had  little  sympathy 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  243 

in  the  community.  Great,  however,  was  the  consternation 
of  the  old  man  and  his  counsel  when  the  bill  of  sale  was 
produced.  It  was  of  no  use  to  question  its  authenticity, 
for  there  was  plenty  of  evidence  to  place  that  beyond  a 
doubt,  and  the  decision  was  rendered  in  favor  of  Deacon 
Palmer. 

During  that  year  suspicions  that  the  younger  Jarvys 
was  engaged  in  a  surreptitious  trade  with  the  British  on 
the  Long  Island  shore  were  set  afloat,  and  the  young  man 
became  so  obnoxious  to  the  inhabitants,  that  fears  for  his 
personal  safety  induced  him  to  leave  in  a  vessel  bound  for 
the  East  Indies.  Grace  never  saw  him  again,  although 
neither  she  nor  her  family  entertained  the  smallest  doubt  of 
his  participation  in  the  nefarious  plot  to  abduct  her  the 
night  of  her  return  from  her  grandmother's.  But  hence 
forth  the  shadow  of  Richard  Jarvys  or  his  father's  will 
not  darken  the  path  of  our  story. 


244  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IT  was  the  midsummer  of  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy- 
nine — that  summer  so  fraught  with  dread  and  disaster  to 
the  peaceful  towns  clustered  along  the  Connecticut  shore. 

Early  in  July,  Sir  Henry  Clinton  had  appointed  Gover 
nor  Tryon  to  the  command  of  a  marauding  expedition 
along  the  seaboard  of  Connecticut,  with  the  object  of  draw 
ing  Washington  from  his  mountain  fastnesses  on  the  Hud 
son  ;  and  this  expedition  was  conducted  in  such  a  spirit  of 
wanton  brutality,  and  disgraced  with  the  perpetration  of 
such  atrocities  on  the  part  of  Tryon  and  his  soldiers,  that 
their  very  names  were  execrated  throughout  the  land. 

New  Haven  had  been  captured  and  its  public  stores 
destroyed,  while  the  pleasant  town  of  Fairfield  had  been 
laid  desolate,  and  its  inhabitants  had  seen  their  homes  mak 
ing  the  midnight  a  sheet  of  flame.  Norwalk  had  been 
invaded  and  much  of  it  laid  in  ashes  ;  and  the  inhabitants 
of  New  London  now  awaited  in  trembling  anxiety  the 
descent  of  the  expedition  on  their  shores. 

The  homeless  inhabitants  of  the  desolated  towns  wan 
dered  along  the  seaboard  and  told  the  fearful  story  of  their 
homes  ravaged  and  laid  in  ashes  by  the  fierce  and  brutal 
soldiery,  of  plunder  and  rapine  and  devastation,  arousing 
the  people  everywhere  into  fierce  indignation  at  their 
wrongs.  And  the  robins  sang  sweetly  in  the  summer 
mornings,  and  the  golden  banners  of  sunshine  waved  over 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  245 

the  fields  which  grew  ripe  for  the  harvest,  while  over  the 
land  hung  that  awful  shadow  of  terror  and  waiting.* 

And  in  one  of  these  days  on  which  our  story  has  fallen, 
a  still,  sultry  afternoon  of  midsummer,  Lucy  Trueman 
came  down  stairs  with  the  spy-glass  in  her  hand. 

"  Have  you  been  up  to  the  top  of  the  house,  Lucy  ?" 
asked  her  mother,  coming  out  from  the  bedroom  in  a  black 
satin  skirt  and  white  linen  "  short-gown,"  after  the  fashion 
of  matrons  of  that  time. 

"  Yes,  but  there  isn't  any  sign  of  a  fleet  on  the  Sound ; 
only  a  few  schooners  and  fishing  smacks,  and  two  or  three- 
merchant  vessels." 

"  I  hope  the  Lord  will  send  a  wind  that'll  scatter  the 
ships  of  our  enemies  as  he  scattered  the  hosts  of  Pharaoh 
if  they  ever  show  themselves  off  our  coast,"  said  Mrs. 
Trueman,  slipping  a  skein  of  yarn  around  the  back  of  one 
chair  and  bestowing  her  plethoric  self  in  another. 

As  for  Lucy,  she  looked  as  though  climbing  to  the  top 
of  the  house  had  over-exerted  her,  for  the  roses  blazed  wide 
in  her  fair  cheeks,  and  she  sat  down  by  the  window  and 
fanned  herself  vigorously  with  a  large  fan  of  turkey  fea 
thers  which  lay  on  the  table. 

"  I've  sent  by  John  Hemingway  for  Cousin  Tabitha  and 
the  children  to  come  over  here,  and  put  up  until  they  can 
find  a  better  home,"  continued  Mrs.  Trueman.  "  To  think 
of  her  husband's  bein'  sick  off  in  camp,  and  she  and  the 
three  little  ones  bavin'  the  house  burnt  over  their  heads  !" 

"It's  enough  to  make  one's  blood  boil!"    said  Lucy, 

*  In  one  of  these  marauds,  a  great-great-aunt  of  the  writer  having  fled  for 
safety  to  the  woods,  had  a  quantity  of  linen  cut  from  the  loom  and  gashed 
through  and  through  for  mere  wantonness  by  the  swords  of  the  soldiers ; 
while  one  of  her  neighbors — a  deaf  old  gentleman — failing  to  answer  some 
questions  which  he  did  not  understand,  had  his  tongue  cut  out. 


246  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  DUE  FATHERS. 

using  her  fan  with  greater  energy,  while  the  damask  roses 
flamed  broader  for  indignation  in  her  cheeks. 

"  And  to  think  of  her  goin'  down  on  her  knees  to  the 
British  officer  who  ordered  the  house  to  be  fired,  and  beg- 
gin'  him  to  spare  it  because  she  was  a  lone,  helpless  woman 
with  three  little  children." 

"  And  didn't  that  soften  him,  mother  ?" 

"  Soften  him,  child !  He  swore  fiercely  at  her,  and  said 
he  was  glad  of  any  chance  to  burn  the  spawn  of  a  Yankee 
out  of  house  and  home,  and  gave  her  only  half  an  hour  to 
get  the  children  and  what  little  clothing  they  could  carry 
out  of  the  house." 

Lucy  shuddered  with  a  mingling  of  pity  and  horror  at 
this  story. 

"  We  shall  know  what  to  expect  when  the  British  fleet 
comes." 

"  Yes,  they  won't  be  likely"to  show  much  quarter.  And 
there's  Nathaniel ;  he'll  be  sartin  to  march  off  with  the 
front  of  the  militia,  and  no  holdin'  him  back." 

"  I  don't  believe  you'd  try  to,  mother,  in  that  case. 
Why,  woman  as  I  am,  I  believe  I'd  take  grandpa's  musket 
and  start  off  myself!"  and  the  pretty  face  fired  up  until 
the  roses  were  all  lost  in  a  general  glow. 

Mrs.  Trueman  was  a  very  courageous  woman,  but  her 
mother  heart  made  her  a  coward  in  all  which  concerned 
the  safety  of  her  boy.  She  sighed,  and  the  ball  in  her 
hands  expanded  rapidly,  fed  by  the  small  tributary  of  yarn 
which  flowed  from  the  chair  to  Mrs.  Trueman's  fingers. 

"  Mother,"  said  Lucy,  suddenly  breaking  the  silence, 
*'  seems  to  me  you're  fixed  up  !" 

"  Wall,  I  thought  I'd  take  my  knittin'  and  run  over  to 
Miss  Palmer's,  and  have  a  talk  with  her.  In  these  dark 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  247 

times  neighbors  can  kinder  chirk  one  another  up.  Hadn't 
you  better  lock  the  house  up  and  come  too,  Lucy  ?" 

Lucy  meditated  a  moment,  and  then  shook  her  head. 

"  I  promised  Nathaniel  I'd  go  with  him  when  he  got 
through  haying,  to  shake  the  black-heart  cherry-tree." 

The  ball  was  completed  now.  Mrs.  Trueman  rose  up, 
took  a  black  ribbon  from  her  neck,  to  which  was  suspended 
a  bunch  of  keys,  and  laid  them  on  the  table  by  her  daugh 
ter. 

"I'll  leave  'em  in  your  charge,"  said  the  thoughtful 
housekeeper.  "  You  may  have  some  use  for  'em  afore  I 
get  back." 

The  sight  of  those  keys  must  have  supplied  some  subtle 
link  of  association  in  Lucy's  mind,  although  she  was  pro 
bably  unconscious  of  this,  as  she  said,  suddenly : 

"  Mother,  I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  those  two  men  who 
were  here  to  tea  night  before  fcist.  The  more  I  think  of  it 
the  more  I'm  convinced  they  were  British  sailors  from  the 
squadron  that's  anchored  off  Long  Island,  and  their  lurk 
ing  around  here  could  have  been  for  no  good  purpose." 

"  Likely  enough  they  were  spies,"  answered  her  mother. 
"  I  didn't  think  anything  about  it  at  the  time,  for  I  was 
busy  talking  with  old  Squire  Peckham  that  I  haven't  seen 
for  well-nigh  upon  twenty  years,  and  he  was  a  friend  of 
my  father's." 

"  Well,  you  didn't  talk  for  his  benefit  alone ;  for  the 
door  was  open,  and  while  you  were  telling  the  Squire  about 
the  silver  set  uncle  sent  me,  I  happened  to  come  into  the 
dining-room,  and  the  men  sat  at  the  table,  their  heads  bent 
forward,  drinking  in  greedily  every  word  you  said ;  and 
there  was  an  expression  on  both  faces  which  I  cannot 
describe,  but  it  was  made  up  of  cunning  and  malice — an 


248  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

expression  so  evil  that  no  honest  man's  face  could  ever 
wear  it." 

"  Dear  me !'  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  tying  her  bonnet. 
"  One  has  to  keep  eyes  and  ears  open  such  times  as  this !" 
with  which  comprehensive  remark  she  proceeded  to  walk 
out  of  the  front  door. 

She  had  not,  however,  progressed  far  beyond  the  gate 
before  she  returned,  saying  : 

"  Lucy,  if  you  feel  kind  o'  skeerish  about  bein'  left  here 
all  alone,  jest  say  the  word  and  I'll  stay  at  home." 

"  Not  the  least  bit,  mother.  Nobody's  goin'  to  run  the 
risk  of  comin'  round  here  in  broad  daylight ;  and  I  shan't 
have  anything  worse  to  fear  than  my  own  shadow." 

And  thus  reassured,  Mrs.  Trueman  started  off  the  second 
time,  and  Lucy  went  into  her  mother's  room  and  arranged 
her  hair  before  the  small  mahogany  framed  mirror,  and 
smiled  softly  to  herself  at  ^he  pretty  reflection  there,  and 
then  sighed  ;  for  a  thought  which  came  after  and  went  far 
away — a  thought  which  carried  on  its  wings  the  tenderness, 
the  self-sacrifice,  the  long  endurance  of  a  true  woman's 
heart. 

The  last  two  years  had  wrought  a  subtle  change  in  Lucy 
Trueman.  She  was  still  bright,  amusing,  impulsive,  full 
of  pretty,  sudden  speech  and  ways ;  but  something  of  her 
merry,  careless  girlhood  had  gone,  and  it  was  supplanted 
by  a  new  dignity  and  refinement  of  manner. 

She  had  not  "  sunk  her  life  in  the  life  of  another ;"  her 
heart  had  not  carried  its  burden  of  hope,  and  fear,  and 
anxiety  for  two  years  without^  strengthening  and  develop 
ing  her  character ;  and,  standing  before  the  mirror  humming 
fragments  of  old  psalms,  or  some  merry  tune  breaking  in 
a  sudden  sparkle  of  song  out  of  her  red  lips,  and  flashing 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  249 

its  spray  of  melody  into  the  silence,  Lucy  Trueman  looked, 
and  yet  was  not  quite  the  same  Lucy  Trueman  she  had 
been  two  years  before. 

The  rest  of  the  dressing  was  a  very  simple  matter,  and 
when  she  came  out  of  the  bedroom  in  her  light  gingham 
dress,  with  her  round  bare  arms,  she  made  a  prettier  picture 
than  one  often  sees.  She  had  just  taken  from  the  upper 
bureau  drawer  a  breast-knot  of  blue  ribbon,  when  a  slight 
sound  struck  her — like  the  cracking  of  old  boards  when 
stealthy  feet  move  across  them. 

It  came  from  the  back  hall  of  the  old  tavern,  and  was 
precisely  that  sound  which  at  midnight,  or  in  any  lonely 
place,  thrills  one's  nerves  with  a  sudden  mysterious  fear. 
But  it  was  broad  daylight  now ;  and  Lucy  smiled  to  her 
self  when  she  found  her  heart  was  beating  faster.  But 
there  came  the  sound  again,  and  this  time  it  was  louder 
and  nearer ;  there  was  no  mistaking  it  now.  Some  instinct 
of  self-defence  made  her  glance  towards,  the  table  on  which 
lay  her  brother's  pocket-knife,  but  she  was  too  late ;  the 
door  was  burst  swiftly  although  noiselessly  open,  and  there 
stood  before  *Lucy  Trueman's  horrified  eyes  the  men  who 
had  taken  supper  at  the  tavern  two  days  before,  and  who 
had  haunted  her  ever  since  with  a  vague  dread. 

The  men  seemed  for  the  moment  dismayed  at  the  sight 
of  the  girl ;  their  object  was  plunder  and  not  harm  to  any 
inmates  of  the  tavern,  although  their  physiognomies  showed 
them  to  be  desperate  men,  who  would  not  hesitate  at  any 
deed  of  violence  or  wrong  if  it  interfered  with  the  consum 
mation  of  their  plans. 

Lucy  stood  nailed  to  the  floor,  but  a  shriek  from  her 
white  lips  curdled  the  air  with  its  horror.  The  men 
recovered  from  their  first  alarm  before  it  was  silenced. 
•  11* 


250  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

They  were  tolerably  certain  she  was  alone  in  the  house, 
and  everything  with  them  depended  upon  dispatch.  They 
threw  off  all  disguises  at  once.  The  ruffians  advanced 
towards  her,  and  one  pointed  his  musket  while  the  other 
seized  her  roughly  about  the  waist. 

"  You  are  a  dead  girl,"  said  the  latter,  with  a  horrible 
oath,  "  if  you  screech  again ;"  and  then  he  pushed  her 
down,  half-frozen  as  she  was  with  fear,  into  a  chair. 

"  "We  haven't  any  time  to  waste  on  words,'-  said  both  the 
men.  "  What  we  do  must  be  done  quick.  Your  life  is  in 
our  hands,  and  if  you  want  to  save  it  you'll  do  what  we 
demand,  and  get  rid  of  us." 

"  What  is  it  you  want  of  me  ?"  staring  piteously  from 
one  dark  face  to  another. 

They  were  both  heavy,  muscular  men,  in  whose  features 
all  brutal  passions,  all  base  and  evil  tendencies  had  set  their 
signs. 

"  We  come  here  to  get  that  set  of  silver  that's  somewhere 
in  this  house,  and  we'll  have  it  afore  we  leave  it ;  and 
you've  got  to  tell  us  where  it  is,  or  you'll  never  live  to  tell 
anything  again !"  and  then  came  another  oath,  which  both 
men  repeated. 

"  And  if  I'll  tell  you,  will  you  promise  not  to  harm  me  ?" 
supplicated  the  trembling  creature. 

"  We  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  but  the  silver ;  we'll  have 
that,  or  you'll  be  worse  off." 

Lucy  pointed  to  the  cluster  of  keys  on  the  table ;  and 
with  her  limbs  shaking  as  her  voice  did,  made  answer,  for 
she  was  young  and  life  was  sweet : 

"  The  smallest  key  there  will  unlock  the  white  chest  in 
one  corner  of  the  room  overhead,  and  in  the  chest  you'll 
find  the  hair-cloth  trunk  that  holds  the  silver." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  251 

Lucy  remembered  that  the  men  held  a  short  consultation 
together  about  the  best  method  of  disposing  of  her  while 
they  went  up  stairs  in  search  of  the  silver ;  one  of  the  two 
insisting  that  she  would  be  sure  to  make  off  if  they  left  her 
alone.  It  ended  by  one  of  the  robbers  taking  a  strong 
leathern  strap  from  his  pocket  and  confining  her  to  the 
chair. 

After  this  she  could  remember  very  little.  She  sat  in 
the  chair  with  all  her  faculties  benumbed  with  terror,  for 
what  seemed  to  her,  as  she  afterwards  recalled  the  event, 
slow  hours,  although  it  was  subsequently  proved  that  the 
time  of  the  men's  absence  could  not  have  exceeded  five 
minutes.  On  the  men's  return  another  brief  consultation 
passed  betwixt  them  of  which  she  was  the  object. 

"  We'd  better  take  all  the  game  we  can  find,"  said  one 
of  the  ruffians.  "  The  jade  '11  set  up  such  a  yellin'  as  soon 
as  we  are  gone  that  she'll  be  sure  to  get  somebody  foul  of 
our  track.  We'd  better  carry  her  off,  too." 

And  the  other  villain  swore  with  an  oath  that  he  was 
ready,  and  they  hastily  unpinioned  the  half-conscious  girl. 
She  remembered  saying  to  them,  as  one  in  a  dream,  that 
they  had  promised  to  leave  her,  and  both  the  wretches 
laughed  out  brutally,  and  said  that  his  Majesty's  soldiers 
never  felt  themselves  bound  by  oaths  to  Yankees  and 
rebels,  and  afterwards  she  could  remember  no  more — no 
more  until  she  found  herself  on  the  road  which  led  from  her 
house  to  the  sea-shore.  The  Old  Mill  Tavern  stood  quite 
by  itself  on  the  old  turnpike  road,  which  was  now  little 
travelled,  about  a  mile  from  the  Sound. 

The  air  must  have  revived  the  girl,  for  her  captors  had 
not  proceeded  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  when  she 
opened  her  eyes  and  found  herself  being  dragged  hastily 


252  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

along  the  sandy  road.  The  men  had  not  even  paused  to 
gag  her,  feeling  that  they  were  on  dangerous  ground,  and 
no  doubt  trusting  that  she  would  not  regain  her  conscious 
ness  until  she  was  beyond  the  reach  of  help.  But  as  she 
opened  her  eyes  the  whole  awful  truth  flashed  swiftly 
across  the  soul  of  Lucy  Trueman  ;  and  her  face  being 
turned  to  the  right,  for  one  of  the  captor's  arms  was  around 
her  waist,  she  caught  sight  of  Nathaniel  in  a  distant  field 
raking  the  hay  together  in  the  pleasant  afternoon  sun 
shine. 

"  Nathaniel  !"  It  was  a  shriek  of  imploring  terror, 
such  as  a  woman  might  make  in  her  last  need,  and  it 
curdled  the  still  air,  and  sent  its  wild  horror  among  the 
echoes  of  the  distant  rocks,  and  they  cried  in  affright  to 
each  other : 

"  Shoot  the  jade  quick !"  cried  one  of  the  alarmed 
captors. 

"  Somebody  '11  hear  the  report,"  answered  the  other,  and 
he  clapped  his  heavy  hand  on  her  mouth. 

But  the  wild  horror  working  in  her  brain  and  heart 
gave  for  th^  moment  to  Lucy  Trueman  the  strength  of 
more  than  two  men.  She  dashed  aside  the  heavy  hand 
of  one,  the  arms  of  the  other  : 

"  Nathaniel !" 

The  wild  shriek  thrilled  the  echoes  with  its  agony  once 
more.  But  he  is  far  off  and  he  does  not  hear ;  his  back 
is  turned,  and  he  works  on  in  the  joyful  summer  sun 
shine.  She  writhes  herself  once  more  from  the  strong 
arms : 

"  Nathaniel !" 

Oh,  summer  winds,  rise  up  into  mighty  trumpets  and 
bear  across  the  meadows  to  his  ears  that  cry,  for  it  i.s  his 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  253 

sister's  last ;  the  strong  arms  triumph  now  ;  they  grasp  the 
girl ,,: they  gag  her ;  Lucy  Trueman  knows  no  more. 

But  Nathaniel  suddenly  starts  and  stands  erect  and  lis 
tens.  A  far-off  cry  of  distress  reaches  him ;  the  rake 
falls  from  his  hands ;  he  turns  and  looks  off  to  the  east, 
whence  the  sound  seems  to  come.  A  moment  more  and 
a  bend  in  the  road  would  have  hidden  all  from  his  view, 
but  that  moment  saves  it ;  he  sees  the  close  of  the  short 
struggle  betwixt  his  sister  and  her  captors ;  his  face  grows 
white  as  hers ;  his  great,  brown  eyes  blaze  fire ;  in  one 
moment  he  comprehends  it  all. 

Nathaniel  Trueman  had  been  out  hunting  that  morning, 
and  his  gun  lay  under  a  tree  close  at  hand.  He  seized 
this,  and  bent  his  slight,  lithe  limbs  towards  the  sea-shore ; 
for  he  divined  at  once  that  the  men  would  make  for  this. 
Nathaniel  was  fleet-footed  as  an  Indian,  but  the  race  was 
now  to  save  his  sister,  and  he  prayed  that  God  would  lend 
new  speed  to  his  feet  as  he  panted  across  the  hills ;  and  he 
did  not  hear  his  loud  heart,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
moved  like  a  snail. 

The  road  which  Nathaniel  took  led  .across  the  hills 
through  a  district  of  woods  to  the  rocks  by  the  sea.  The 
men  had  hurried  rapidly  along  with  their  burden,  but,  of 
course,  the  unconscious  weight  somewhat  retarded  their 
speed,  and  Nathaniel  Trueman  emerged  from  the  woods 
upon  the  low,  grey  rocks  just  as  the  men  came  out  from 
the  turnpike  on  the  sandy  road  which  led  to  the  sea-shore. 
The  youth's  heart  sickened  for  a  moment  as  he  saw  the 
delicate  form  of  his  sister  in  their  grasp.  He  raised  his 
musket  and  then  lowered  it  again.  If  he  took  aim  at  those 
men  it  would  be  almost  certain  death  to  his  sister. 

For  a  moment  the  youth  deliberated.     Better  die  him- 


254  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATIIEUS. 

self;  better,  far  better  see  his  fair  young  sister  lie  dead  at 
his  feet  than  be  borne  off  by  such  fiends  as  those  who  now 
held  her. 

"  God  help  me !"  said  Nathaniel  Trueman.  And  he  did 
not  say  it  with  a  feeling  of  vague  helplessness  and  weak 
ness,  which  all  men  have  in  some  great  crisis  of  need  and 
terror.  "  God  help  me  !"  said  Nathaniel  Trueman,  feeling, 
that  He  was  a  present  God,  strong  to  save  in  any  moment 
of  human  limitation  and  need. 

Then  he  lifted  his  musket  and  took  deliberate  aim, 
and  his  voice  rang  clear  and  incisive  over  the  cliffs,  and 
reached  the  men  that  were  hurrying  their  burden  to  the 
sand : 

"  Move  another  step  with  that  girl  and  I'll  shoot  you 
dead  on  the  spot  1" 

A  villain  is  usually  a  coward  when  suddenly  surprised. 
The  ruffians  knew  they  were  in  an  enemy's  country,  and 
that  they  ran  great  risks  of  discovery ;  and  the  attitude  of 
Nathaniel,  as  he  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  grey  cliff,  the 
slight,  graceful  form  cut  out  like  a  statue  against  the  rocks 
in  its  stern  defiance,  had  something  about  it  which  appalled 
the  men  whom  he  addressed. 

They  stood  still  and  took  hurried  counsel  with  each 
other.  They  had  muskets  and  could  fire,  too;  but  there 
was  a  house  on  the  left  (they  did  not  know  it  was  an  un 
occupied  one),  and  the  sound  of  a  gun  might  precipitate 
discovery.  Moreover,  Nathaniel  had  the  advantage  of 
time ;  his  gun  was  levelled,  and  he  would  probably  fire 
before  they  could  take  aim. 

Their  boat  still  lay  some  distance  off,  and  if  they  could 
make  their  escape  with  their  booty  it  was  hardly  worth 
while  to  run  such  imminent  risks  of  discovery  for  the  sake 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  255 

of  the  girl.  All  this  flashed  through  their  minds  in  less 
than  a  quarter  of  a  minute,  and  they  read  it  in  each  other's 
faces. 

Still  they  had  one  advantage  over  Nathaniel.  It  was 
for  the  sake  of  his  sister  that  he  did  not  fire.  The  men 
saw  this,  and  standing  still  and  placing  before  them  the 
unconscious  girl,  they  cried  out : 

"  If  we  leave  her  here,  will  you  pledge  your  honor  not 
to  fire?" 

"  I  pledge  it."  The  voice  of  Nathaniel  coming  clear 
over  the  cliff  was  its  own  witness  of  veracity. 

And  the  men  believed  it.  They  laid  poor  Lucy  True- 
man  down  on  the  ground  where  heavy  wagon  wheels  had 
made  deep  ruts  in  the  soil ;  but  with  a  brutality  which  it 
sickens  us  to  think  of,  one  of  the  men,  standing  in  such  a 
manner  that  Nathaniel  from  that  distance  was  unable  to  see 
his  rapid  movement,  tore  down  through  the  small  ears  of 
Lucy  Trueman  the  antique  jewels  which  blazed  there,*  and 
then  started  for  the  shore,  having  plundered  her  of  every 
gift  which,  four  years  before,  her  uncle  had  taken  so  much 
pride  and  pains  in  bringing  her  from  Europe. 

Nathaniel  had  lowered  his  gun,  but  he  watched  the  men 
breathlessly,  ready  to  raise  it  any  moment,  for  there  was  a 
strong  possibility  that  they  might  alter  their  minds  and 
turn  suddenly  and  fire  on  him.  But  the  risks  probably 
seemed  too  great ;  they  made  rapidly  for  the  boat,  and  were 
soon  concealed  by  the  distant  rocks. 

Nathaniel  lost  no  time  in  hurrying  to  his  sister ;  but  as 
he  reached  her  and  saw  her  fair  white  face  lying  as  dead 
faces  lie  on  the  hard  ground,  with  the  blood  dripping 

*  This  outrage  was  actually  committed  by  a  British  soldier  on  a  lady 
during  the  war. 


256  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

from  the  deep  gashes  in  the  mutilated  ears  where  the  car 
buncles  had  lately  flashed  their  royal  radiance,  a  cold  ter 
ror  came  over  him,  and  his  knees  smote  under  him  so  he 
could  not  stand. 

"  Lucy,  pretty  sister,"  said  the  youth,  bursting  into  tears. 
And,  falling  down  by  her  side,  he  stroked  the  face  which 
he  had  not  strength  to  raise  from  its  rough  pillow. 

For  awhile  the  fear  that  she  might  have  died  of  fright 
fairly  suffocated  Nathaniel  Trueman ;  but  at  last,  with  a 
great  shudder,  Lucy  opened  her  eyes  and  glared  at  him. 

"  Lucy,  you  know  who  I  am ;  don't  be  frightened  any 
more  ;  you're  all  safe,"  said  the  familiar,  soothing  voice  of 
Nathaniel. 

Her  face  struggled  with  perplexity  and  terror  a  moment ; 
then  the  whole  truth  flashed  over  her.  She  stared  on 
all  sides,  shaking  with  horror.  Nathaniel  lifted  her  head 
and  laid  it  on  his  shoulder  with  words  like  a  mother's  to 
her  frightened  infant : 

"  They're  all  gone,  Lucy,  dear ;  you've  not  a  thing  more 
to  fear.  I  heard  you  when  you  called  me  out  there  in 
the  fields,  and  the  Lord  gave  me  speed  and  strength  to 
save  you." 

Poor  Lucy !  The  storm  broke  then  in  sobs  and  shud 
ders  ;  in  wild  clinging  to  her  brother,  and  in  spasms  of 
terror  that  every  little  while  went  over  her,  and  that 
Nathaniel  could  not  soothe. 

But  she  was  quieted  at  last,  and  then  she  put  her  hand 
to  her  ears  and  asked : 

"  What  have  they  done  to  my  head,  it  aches  so  ?" 

"  The  brutes  must  have  torn  out  your  ear-rings.  My 
poor  sister  !  I  should  hardly  know  you." 

It  was  pitiful,  the  way  she  sat  there  and  looked  him  in 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR   FATHERS.  257 

the  face — bright,  pretty  Lucy  Trueman,  with  the  slow  tears 
oozing  down  her  cheeks.  The  shock  she  had  undergone 
came  well-nigh  depriving  her  of  reason. 

But  at  last  Nathaniel  succeeded  in  arousing  her,  and  in 
partly  carrying  and  partly  leading  her  home.  They  were 
not  more  than  a  mile  from  this ;  but  Lucy  was  haunted  by 
a  continual  dread  that  the  men  would  return  and  snatch 
her  away  from  Nathaniel ;  and  they  were  such  desperate 
villains,  and  the  road  was  so  lonely  a  one,  that  the  young 
captain  was  not  wholly  without  solicitude,  and  kept  watch 
on  all  sides,  although  he  was  careful  to  conceal  his  fears 
from  his  sister. 

He  drew  out  of  her  by  degrees  a  recital  of  all  the  cir 
cumstances  of  the  robbers'  visit,  and  dispatched  a  small  boy, 
who  was  the  first  individual  they  met  before  he  reached 
the  tavern,  for  his  mother  and  Mrs.  Palmer. 

The  story  which  the  frightened  child  carried  to  the 
Deacon's  of  Lucy's  appearance  brought  back  the  two 
ladies  and  Grace  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time, 
when  they  found  Lucy  in  Nathaniel's  arms,  and  he  was 
rocking  her  back  and  forth  in  his  mother's  arm-chair. 

It  did  not  take  the  young  man  long  to  relate  to  the 
horrified  women  all  which  had  happened  during  Mrs. 
Trueman's  absence.  Lucy  was  too  exhausted  to  say  much; 
but  the  old,  familiar,  pitying  faces  and  voices  went  far  in 
quieting  and  restoring  her.  But  she  did  not  leave  her 
room  for  nearly  two  weeks  after  her  narrow  escape,  and 
her  nervous  system  underwent  a  shock  at  that  time  whose 
effects  she  felt  to  her  dying  day. 


258  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THERE  was  joy  in  the  homestead  of  the  Palmers  in 
those  blazing  midsummer  days,  for  Robert  had  come  home, 
after  an  absence  of  two  years.  Not  as  he  went  came 
back  Robert  Palmer.  The  young  soldier  had  been  pro 
moted  to  a  lieutenancy,  and  those  two  years  had  wrought 
great  changes  in  him.  "  All  for  the  better/'  his  family 
thought ;  especially  his  mother,  who  could  hardly  believe 
the  tall,  muscular,  sun-browned  soldier  was  the  boy  that 
two  summers  before  had  started  off,  full  of  military  en 
thusiasm  and  dreams  of  glory,  to  join  the  army  of  Gates 
on  the  Hudson. 

Robert  had  had  experience  to  cool  that  first  boyish 
enthusiasm  for  military  life,  as  what  soldier  of  the  Revolu 
tion  did  not?  But  it  had  condensed  into  that  sturdy 
patriotism  which  made  the  yeomanry  of  New  England  the 
"  backbone  of  the  war." 

Robert  Palmer  was  a  frank,  generous,  outspoken  charac 
ter.  It  was  not  of  the  fine  quality ;  but  it  was  of  that 
sturdy,  muscular  kind  which  laid  the  foundation  of  New 
England's  prosperity  in  the  days  of  our  fathers. 

He  had  a  keen  relish  for  a  joke,  and  was  one  of  those 
sparkling,  good-humored  characters  that  are  a  favorite 
with  everybody. 

His  coming  quite  revolutionized  the  quiet  life  at  the 
Deacon's,  with  his  stories  of  feats  of  daring,  of  heroism 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  259 

and  endurance,  of  all  kinds  of  hazard  and  suffering  which, 
give  to  camp-life  its  tragical  interest,  and  flashed  strange, 
brilliant  colors  among  the  neutral  tints  of  the  household. 

"Things  have  reached  a  terrible  pass,"  laughed  Grace 
on  the  fourth  morning  of  her  brother's  return.  "  You've 
broken  into  all  our  time-honored  habits  and  traditions,  for 
which  I  hold  you  responsible.  I  haven't  spun  a  knot, 
or  sewed  a  stitch,  or  churned  a  quart  of  milk  since  your 
return ;  and  sit  up  from  early  morning  until  late  at  night, 
with  wide  eyes  and  mouth  drinking  in  your  stories,  until 
my  conscience  begins  to  accuse  me  of  idleness,  which,  you 
know,  opens  the  door  to  all  other  sins.  Aren't  you  almost 
through  with  your  stories  ?"  throwing  herself  down  on  the 
settle  by  his  side,  where  he  was  paring  an  early  apple 
which  Benny  had  just  brought  him  as  an  especial  testi 
monial  of  his  awe  and  admiration  of  his  soldier-brother. 

"  Oh,  worthy  descendant  of  a  Deacon,  I've  only  just 
begun." 

"Mother,  do  you  hear  that?"  said  Grace  to  her  mother, 
who  was  cutting  off  the  tops  of  some  young  beets.  "  You 
haven't  set  me  much  of  an  example  of  industry  since 
Eobert  came." 

"  Well,  I'm  goin'  to  try  to  bestir  myself  to-day,"  said 
Mrs.  Palmer,  in  a  tone  which  bore  witness  to  some  small 
compunction  and  doubt.  "  But,  somehow,  it  seems  to  take 
all  my  time  to  listen  to  Robert's  stories  and  get  up  some- 
thin'  that'll  be  a  relish  for  him." 

"  That's  right,  mother ;  I  expected  you'd  kill  the  fatted 
calf  and  provide  a  continual  feast  to  celebrate  the  return  of 
your  eldest  son.  Oh,  the  times  that  my  stomach  has  hun 
gered  for  a  slice  of  your  apple-pie,  and  my  mouth  watered 
over  my  salt  pork  and  hard  bread  for  a  big  doughnut  and 


260  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

a  hunk  of  cheese  such  as  I  used  to  carry  to  the  old  brown 
school-house  to  eat  at  recess." 

"  You  dear  boy !"  said  Grace,  leaning  forward  and 
stroking  the  young  soldier's  hair ;  and  her  face  said  a  great 
deal  more.  > 

"You  dear  girl,"  said  Eobert,  with  an  answering  smile, 
cutting  a  quadrant  of  the  apple  into  her  hand. 

"I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  "that  I'll  ventur'  on 
having  a  couple  of  briled  chickens  for  dinner ;  the  largest 
on  'em's  got  big  enough  to  cook." 

"  Briled  chickens  !"  exclaimed  her  eldest  son  ;  "  blessed 
sound  to  a  soldier's  ears !  Mother,  command  me  to  wring 
their  necks." 

"  He  may  have  my  speckled  brown  hen ;  that's  grown 
real  big  in  a  week,"  interposed  Benny.  And  this  offer 
was  the  largest  sacrifice  to  the  shrine  of  military  glory 
which  it  was  in  his  power  to  make. 

Bat  Mrs.  Palmer  would  not  assent  to  the  decapitation  of 
Benny's  grey  speckled  chicken,  and  a  couple  of  others 
were  substituted  in  its  stead. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself  to-day, 
Robert  ?"  asked  Grace,  as  the  young  soldier  came  in  from 
the  barnyard  with  the  chickens  whose  life  he  had  just 
violently  dispatched. 

"  I  shall  take  myself  off  after  you  and  mother  have 
picked  the  chickens,  for  I  promised  Nathaniel  Trueman 
I'd  take  a  row  with  him  beyond  the  cove  this  morning 
for  the  sake  of  old  times." 

"  And  mind  you  go  in  and  chirk  up  poor  Lucy,"  said 
Mrs.  Palmer.  "There's  nothin'  like  cheerful  talk  for 
unstrung  nerves." 

"  My  little  playmate,  Lucy !     I  wish  I'd  been  on  hand 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  261 

when  those  ruffians  showed  themselves  at  the  tavern 
door!"  And  Robert  looked  as  he  had  looked  on  the 
battle-field  now. 

And  a  little  later,  when  Grace  walked  with  him  to  the 
gate,  past  the  brier-roses,  whose  red  bowls  poured  sweet 
perfume  on  the  air,  Robert  took  a  small  white  box  from 
his  pocket. 

"  Look  in  there,"  he  said  to  his  sister. 

And  Grace  opened  it  and  saw  a  small  watch-case, 
daintily  embroidered  with  silk  and  beads  on  a  blue  satin 
ground.  In  the  centre  thereof  were  a  couple  of  robins 
alighted  on  a  tumulus  of  dark-green  moss;  and  in  one 
corner  was  a  spray  of  leaves  and  berries,  close  to  which 
was  clustered  a  name  wrought  with  gold  beads — "  Bessie." 

"How  very  pretty  it  is!  What  lady  gave  you  this, 
Robert?" 

"Not  a  lady,  but  a  little  girl  who  hadn't  seen  her 
thirteenth  birthday.  It  was  all  she  had  to  give  me ;  and 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  her,  poor  child,  the  chances  are  that 
your  brother  wouldn't  have  been  standing  here  by  this 
lilac-bush  with  you  this  May  morning." 

"  Wouldn't  ?     What  do  you  mean,  Robert  ?" 

"  It  isn't  a  long  story.  You  know  1  wrote  you,  soon 
after  the  battle  of  Monmouth,  that  I'd  had  a  touch  of  the 
bilious  fever.  It  was  a  good  deal  more  than  that ;  but  I 
didn't  want  to  scare  home-folks,  so  I  put  a  light  face  on  the 
matter.  We  had  halted  at  Paramus,  used  up  with  our 
marches  after  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  the  weather  was  hot 
enough  to  brile  a  man's  brains " 

"Broil,  not  brile,  Robert,  dear." 

"  Come,  Gracie,  you  mustn't  expect  much  of  me  in  the 
way  of  fine  talking.  I  shall  be  plain  homespun  Robert 


262  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

Palmer  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  It'll  do  for  you,  who 
are  a  scholar  yourself  and  expect  to  be  with  one  all  your 
life,  to  talk  like  a  dictionary ;  but  it  don't  matter  if  I  stick 
to  the  old-fashioned  words." 

Grace  might  have  made  a  strong  point  against  Robert, 
but  she  was  interested  in  his  story;  moreover,  there  was 
one  allusion  in  his  remarks  which  made  her  cheeks  tingle. 

"  Gro  on,  Robert,"  she  said,  thinking  this  subject  might 
remain  open  for  further  discussion. 

"  Well,  I'd  tossed  about,  with  a  tree  for  a  roof  and  a 
blanket  for  a  bed,  for  two  mortal  days,  parched  with  thirst 
and  burning  with  fever,  and  the  third  morning  I  said  to 
myself:  '  Robert  Palmer,  if  you've  got  to  give  up  the  ship, 
do  it  like  a  man ;  stand  fast  to  the  wheel  until  she  goes 
down.'  So  I  staggered  up  and  off  into  the  woods  in  search 
of  mint  or  berries — anything  that  would  ease  the  thirst  that 
gnawed  at  my  stomach  and  throat,  and  expected  every 
minute  to  drop  down  under  the  nearest  tree  and  never  get 
up  again." 

"  Oh,  Robert,  how  we  should  have  felt  if  we  had  known 
it!" 

"  Lucky  you  didn't.  Well,  I  came  at  last  upon  some 
high-vine  blackberries,  and  they  touched  the  spot,  for  I 
hadn't  put  a  mouthful  inside  for  three  days ;  and  then  I 
spied  some  apple-trees  not  far  off,  and  I  knew  there  must 
be  a  house  nigh  at  hand,  and  I  started  for  the  apple-trees ; 
but  before  I  reached  'em  I  came  to  a  spring  with  mint 
growing  all  about  it,  and  I  sank  down  here,  too  faint  to 
move  a  step  further. 

"  I  reckon  I  must  have  fainted  dead  away,  for  I  can't 
remember  anything  for  a  long  time,  and  the  sun  had  got 
well  towards  the  west'ard  when  I  opened  my  eyes.  I  tried 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  263 

to  get  up,  but  I  couldn't  make  it  out,  and  I  was  resigning 
myself  to  the  worst,  when  there  came  over  the  fields  a  soft 
child's  voice  humming  some  old  psalm-tune.  I  rested  my 
head  on  my  hand,  and  a  moment  later  I  saw  a  little  girl 
hopping  along  the  grass  to  the  spring  with  a  tin  pail 
in  her  hand.  Seeing  me,  she  stopped  short,  her  little  round 
face  full  of  surprise  and  a  little  alarm. 

"'Don't  be  afraid,  my  little  girl,'  I  said.  'I'm  a  sick 
man,  and  I've  wandered  off  from  the  camp,  and  I  shall  die 
here  if  somebody  don't  help  me.' 

"  The  surprise  in  her  face  vanished  into  pity.  She  drew 
near: 

"  '  Are  you  a  tory  ?'  she  asked. 

"  '  No.  I'm  a  soldier  in  the  American  army.  "Won't 
you  give  me  a  drink  of  water  ?'  She  took  a  small  tin  cup 
from  the  pail  and  filled  it  from,  the  spring  and  gave  it 
to  me.  Oh,  Grace,  how  good  that  water  tasted  !" 

"  Go  on,  Eobert." 

"  The  little  girl  told  me  that  she  and  her  grandmother 
lived  all  alone  in  the  red  house  beyond  the  apple-trees. 
Her  brother,  Lyman,  had  joined  the  British  army,  but  her 
father  had  always  taken  side  with  the  Americans,  although 
he  died  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  war. 

"  Then  the  child  hurried  off,  saying  she  would  bring  her 
grandmother,  who  knew  just  how  to  take  care  of  sick 
people,  and  wouldn't  let  me  lie  there  any  longer.  In  a 
few  moments  the  child  returned  with  an  old  woman,  wrin 
kled  and  bowed  down,  but  she  had  a  pleasant,  motherly 
face  for  all  that.  Well,  to  make  the  story  short,  they  got 
me  up,  and  half-led  and  half-carried  me  to  the  house,  for  I 
couldn't  have  stood  alone  to  save  my  life,  and  they  got  me 
to  bed ;  and  I  don't  remember  much  after  this,  only  I 


2  64:  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

know  that  old  woman  and  that  young  child  nursed  me  for 
the  next  two  weeks  through  a  terrible  fever,  just  as  tenderly 
as  you  and  mother  would  have  done  it,  Gracie  !" 

"  Oh,  Robert,  how  grateful  you  must  be  to  them !"  said 
Grace,  with  the  bright  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Grateful !  That  isn't  strong  enough !  When  I  got 
better  at  last,  it  seemed  as  though  that  child  couldn't  do 
enough  for  me.  She  hung  round  my  chair  with  her  pretty 
prattle,  her  sweet  womanish  ways,  and  her  bright  rosy 
face  day  after  day ;  and  I  told  her  stories  of  you  folks  at 
home,  and  made  her  all  sorts  of  gimcracks  and  toys  with 
bits  of  wood  out  of  my  jack-knife,  and  I  was  a  very  happy 
convalescent;  but  it  came  to  a  sudden  end." 

"How,  Robert?" 

"Why,  it  seems  that  I  was  in  the  hottest  kind  of  tory 
neighborhood,  and  it  got  noised  abroad  that  old  Miss 
Stebbins  had  got  a,  live  rebel  in  her  house,  and  there  was  a 
plan  laid  to  seize  and  take  me  prisoner.  One  night,  just  at 
sunset,  two  or  three  of  these  fellows,  who  thought  they'd 

o  •/ 

have  a  nice  spree  over  it,  came  round  to  spy  out  how  the 
land  lay,  and  it  happened  that  Bessie,  who  was  down 
among  the  currant  bushes,  overheard  the  whole  plan. 
There  were  about  twenty  concerned  in  it — rough,  drunken 
fellows — and  betwixt  them  all  I  should  have  had  a  chance 
of  pretty  tough  handling. 

"  Bessie  got  hold  of  the  whole  scheme.  They  were  to 
come  that  night  about  ten  o'clock  and  demand  me  without 
loss  of  time^  and,  as  they  swore,  carry  off  the  Yankee  dead 
or  alive.  Bessie  hurried  back  to  the  house  panting  with 
fright,  and  told  me  what  she  had  overheard.  I  was  by  this 
time  hard  on  the  road  to  getting  well.  I'd  been  out  that 
day  for  the  first  time.  Well,  I  saw  they  would  have  the 


BATTLE-FIELDS 'OF  OUR  FATHERS.  265 

advantage  of  me  in  strength  and  numbers,  and  my  only 
chance  was  to  make  my  escape ;  but  it  looked  like  pretty 
tough  work  for  a  man  with  no  stouter  legs  than  mine. 
But  as  I'd  nothin'  else,  I  concluded  to  try  'em.  Miss 
Stebbins  had  gone  away  to  a  sick  neighbor's,  and  Bessie 
concluded  to  take  my  advice,  lock  up  the  house,  and  go  to 
her  grandmother. 

"  About  three  miles  off  on  a  lonely  road  was  an  old 
deserted  house  where  I  could  pass  the  night,  and  the  next 
day  make  my  way  to  a  more  friendly  neighborhood.  So 
little  Bessie  packed  me  off  with  a  pocketful  of  pie  and 
gingerbread  and  a  blanket  to  lie  on ;  and  then — poor  child, 
I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it,"  said  Eobert  Palmer,  stopping 
short. 

"  And  then  ?"  said  Grace,  softly. 

"  She  put  her  arms  about  my  neck,  little  Bessie  Stebbins, 
and  with  the  tears  on  her  cheeks,  thick  as  blackberries 
on  high  vines  in  August,  she  sobbed  out  that  tljis  little 
watch-case  she  worked  for  her  brother  was  all  she  had 
to  give  me,  and  that  I  mustn't  forget  her,  but  keep  it,  and 
promise  that  some  day  I  would  come  back  to  see  her  and 
grandma.  And  I  promised  her,  and  that  is  the  last  I  saw 
of  her. 

"  That  night  I  slept  at  the  old  deserted  house  in  a  clear 
ing  among  the  woods,  and  the  next  day  got  among  friendly 
strangers,  and  before  another  week  was  out  I  was  safe  and 
sound  in  camp." 

"  But  the  child — are  you  sure  no  harm  came  to 
her?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  she  was  a  brave  little  puss,  bless  her !  She 
must  have  made  quick  tracks  for  her  grandmother  and 
reached  there  before  dark ;  but  those  twenty  tories  must 

12 


266  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUK   FATHERS. 

have  felt  blank  enough  that  night  when  they  found  the 
house  deserted  and  the  rebel  gone." 

"  It's  a  real  little  pearl  of  a  romance,"  said  Grace ;  "  and 
to  make  it  complete,  Eobert,  you  ought  to  go  back  one  of 
these  days  and  marry  this  little  Bessie  Stebbins  !" 

"  Who  knows  but  I  shall !  No  need  of  being  in  a 
hurry.  She's  only  twelve  now,"  said  Robert,  with  a  laugh, 
and  he  went  his  way. 

And  Grace  went  up  gravely  to  the  house,  thinking  of 
this  story  and  all  Bessie  Stebbins  had  done  for  Eobert,  and 
passed  the  rest  of  the  morning  talking  it  over  with  her 
mother. 

A  little  after  sunset  Eobert  and  Grace  sauntered  home 
from  a  walk  on  the  beach,  where  they  had  been  listening 
to  the  cry  of  the  seagulls  and  watching  the  white  frill  of 
foam  on  the  sands. 

"You've  got  good  news,  father,"  said  Grace.  "I  see  it 
in  your  eyes." 

"  So  I  have,  praise  the  Lord !" 

"  Let's  have  it."     This,  of  course,  was  Eobert. 

"  We've  recaptured  Stony  Point !  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
has  recalled  his  troops  from  Long  Island,  and  New  London 
is  out  of  danger !" 

They  all  drew  a  long  breath  for  surprise  and  joy.  The 
story  of  the  capture  of  Stony  Point,  the  news  of  the 
deliverance  of  New  London,  seemed  too  good  to  be  true. 
The  Deacon's  family,  like  the  whole  country,  was  thrilled 
with  amazement  at  that  daring  achievement — one  of  the 
most  brilliant  of  the  war.  And  then  the  Deacon  had  to  go 
over  the  whole  story  to  listeners  that  hung  on  every  word 
— how  General  Wayne  had  stolen  at  midnight  upon  the 
sentries  that  guarded  that  lone  promontory  washed  by  the 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  267 

Hudson ;  how  bravely  he  and  his  men  had  driven  in  the 
pickets  and  mounted  the  ramparts  with  a  shoufy  "  The  day 
is  ours;"  and  now,  where  the  British  flag  had  so  lately 
floated  in  its  triumph,  there  waved  another — the  Stars  and 
Stripes  of  America. 

"  Hearing  such  a  story  makes  me  want  to  be  off  to  the 
army  again,"  said  Eobert  Palmer,  getting  up  and  pacing 
the  room. 

"  The  whole  thing  was  planned,  as  every  good  thing  has 
been  in  this  war,  by  General  Washington.  I  knew  he 
wasn't  lying  idle  and  indifferent,  as  so  many  believed, 
while  our  coasts  were  being  ravaged,  and  our  homes  de 
stroyed.  He  couldn't  break  up  his  army  by  sending  off 
detachments  to  hover  round  every  place  that  was  attacked ; 
but  this  taking  Stony  Point  was  a  master-stroke,  serving 
two  purposes — it's  taken  the  post  and  called  off  the  enemy 
from  our  posts,"  said  the  Deacon. 

"  A  master- stroke,  sir,"  said  Robert. 

"  Oh,  Grace,  I'd  like  to  forgot,"  said  her  father,  with  a 
lurking  pleasure  in  his  smile,  "  there's  something  for  you !" 
taking  a  letter  and  an  oblong  roll  from  his  deep  coat-pocket. 

"  Oh,  let  me  see,  Gracie !"  said  Benny,  putting  up  his 
curly  head  close  to  his  sister. 

And  with  a  face  which  wore  a  different  eagerness  from 
Benny's,  Grace  cut  the  envelope,  and  there  rolled  out  a  silk 
flag,  the  new  emblem  of  our  new  liberties,  with  its  beauti 
fully  contrasted  bars  of  white  and  red,  its  field  of  azure 
blossoming  with  its  thirteen  silver  stars.  Grace  had  never 
seen  the  new  banner  of  her  country  before.  It  was  a  pity 
that  the  giver  was  not  there  to  mark  the  delight  in  her 
face.  And  in  the  midst  of  the  general  inspection  and 
admiration,  Robert  said : 


268  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  I'll  put  it  up,  Grace,  at  the  corner  of  the  house  over 
your  window,  with  appropriate  ceremonies  to-morrow 
morning." 

And  as  soon  as  possible  Grace  slipped  off  up  stairs  with 
her  letter  clasped  tight  in  her  hand.  She  did  not  come 
down  until  it  was  quite  dark  ;  but  there  was  a  full  moon, 
and  the  earth  lay  asleep  under  its  silver  frosting. 

Mrs.  Palmer  and  Robert  had  gone  over  to  a  neighbor's. 
The  Deacon  sat  in  the  door  looking  out  on  the  night  with 
quiet  enjoyment.  Grace  came  up  and  put  her  hand  softly 
on  her  father's  shoulder. 

"My  little  daughter!"  said  the  old  man,  drawing  her 
down  on  his  knee,  for  every  year  the  tie  between  Grace 
and  her  father  seemed  to  grow  closer  and  tenderer. 

"It  looks  pleasant,  the  old  place  in  the  moonlight, 
doesn't  it?"  said  Grace. 

"  Yes,  daughter,  and  it's  grown  a  great  deal  dearer  to  me 
since  I  can  walk  over  it  once  more  and  feel  that  it's  mine, 
and  no  man  can  rob  me  of  it.  Maybe  the  Lord  saw  that  I 
wasn't  grateful  enough  for  the  old  homestead,  and  so  He 
let  me  pass  through  that  long  trial  of  hope,  and  fear,  and 
dread,  which  took  something  out  of  my  life." 

"  Oh,  father,  this  hope,  and  fear,  and  waiting  are  hard ; 
very  hard,"  said  Grace,  dropping  her  head  on  the  old  man's 
shoulder,  and  yielding  for  once  to  the  long  sorrow  which 
oppressed  her. 

"  I  know  it  is,  my  child.  But  the  Lord  always  sends  us 
strength  to  bear  our  burdens,  and  you  have  carried  yours 
bravely." 

"  But  sometimes  it  grows  very  heavy,  father.  Only  to 
think  it  is  more  than  four  years  since  he  went  away,  and 
there  is  still  no  telling  when  this  terrible  war  will  be  over. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR   FATHERS.  269 

"  As  soon  as  God  wills,  my  daughter,  and  He  has  been 
very  merciful  to  us  ;  the  day  does  not  seem  very  far  off  to 
those  who  now  watch  in  faith  and  hope." 

He  saw  her  face  in  the  moonlight  as  she  lifted  it  and 
smiled  on  him — a  smile  that  was  full  of  courage  and  cheer, 
and  that  drew  its  light  and  sweetness  from  springs  beyond 
this  world.  So  they  sat  without  speaking  awhile,  until  she 
heard  her  mother's  voice  and  Robert's  rvt  the  gate,  and 
then  Grace  slipped  softly  up  stairs  again,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  letter  which  she  wrote  that  night,  she  said  : 

"  It  is  vain  for  me  to  seek  for  words  to  tell  you,  Edward, 
all  that  I  felt  when  I  looked  to-night  upon  the  flag  you 
sent  me.  I  had  never  seen  one,  and  as  I  looked  on  its 
bars  of  white  and  crimson,  above  all  on  its  blessed  cluster 
of  Stars,  my  thoughts  fairly  overcame  me.  '  Oh,  my  Stars,' 
I  said,  '  ye  shall  shine  gloriously.  Praise  and  honor  await 
ye !'  When  I  think  of  that,  Edward — how  this  little  cloud 
of  Stars  shall  shine  bright  on  the  waves  of  every  ocean  ; 
how  they  shall  unfurl  their  sweet  faces  in  every  port  of  the 
earth,  carrying  the  new  sign  of  peace  and  liberty  and  right 
eousness  wherever  they  go ;  and  when  I  think  that  other 
Stars  shall  in  coming  years  be  added  to  these,  and  our 
home,  God  willing,  shall  be  built,  and  our  lives  move  peace 
fully  beneath  them ;  and  long  after  we  have  lain  down  to 
sleep  in  the  hope  of  a  resurrection  unto  life  immortal,  they 
shall  shine  upon  our  graves,  even  as  God's  everlasting 
stars  arise  over  them — when  I  think  of  all  this,  oh  my  best 
friend,  my  lips  and  my  pen  have  no  words  to  utter  the 
song  of  joy  and  praise  that  is  to-night  in  the  heart  of  your 

"GRACE  PALMER." 


270  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

WITH  the  opening  of  the  autumn  of  seventeen  hundred 
and  eighty  there  came  a  shock  of  surprise  and  dismay  to 
all  patriot  hearts  throughout  the  land ;  it  was  the  tidings 
of  the  disastrous  defeat  which  our  army  had  sustained 
under  Gates  at  the  battle  of  Camden. 

It  seemed  almost  incredible  that  the  veteran  General 
who  had  won  such  laurels  a  few  autumns  before,  to  whom 
Burgoyne  and  his  haughty  troops  had  laid  down  their 
arms  on  the  Hudson,  was  now  utterly  routed  by  an  army 
whose  numbers  did  not  equal  his  own. 

Congress  and  the  country  began  at  last  to  perceive  that 
the  Commander-in-Chief  was  right,  as  his  calm  judgment 
and  deep  forecast  always  were  in  all  matters  connected 
with  the  welfare  of  his  country,  when  he  entreated  that 
an  army  might  be  organized  at  the  South  instead  of  leav 
ing  its  defence  to  the  raw  militia  within  its  borders. 

Major  Dudley  had  accompanied  the  reinforcements  which 
had  gone  South  under  General  Gates ;  and  the  tidings  of 
the  disastrous  battle  at  Camden  had  sent  a  shiver  of  dread 
to  every  heart  under  the  Deacon's  roof;  but  there  was  one 
to  whom  it  was  more  than  this — a  silent,  abiding  anguish. 

Yet  Grace  Palmer  struggled  with  it  bravely.  She  mov 
ed  about  diligent  as  ever  in  all  housewifely  duties,  and 
more  thoughtful  for  others  than  herself;  and  none  would 
have  suspected  the  slow  pain  which  she  carried  had  it 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  271 

not  been  for  the  unbent  lines  of  the  mouth,  giving  it  the 
look  of  a  grieved  child's,  and  the  thin  cheeks  out  of 
which  the  faint  roses  had  vanished. 

The  Deacon  and  his  wife  did  not  often  touch  with 
words  on  this  sorrow  which  had  fallen  on  their  child; 
they  showed  their  sympathy  in  the  thousand  nameless 
ways  that  love  can — in  watchfulness,  in  soft  tones,  and 
solicitous  ways ;  and  so  they  all  waited  in  fear  and  hope 
for  the  next  tidings  that  should  come  from  the  South. 

"  Ain't  you  stickin'  down  in  the  house  most  too  tight, 
Grace  ?"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  suddenly  entering  her  daugh 
ter's  room  one  afternoon  in  the  middle  of  September,  and 
finding  her  seated  by  the  window  with  her  book  lying  in 
her  lap  and  her  eyes  looking  off  to  the  distant  Sound 
where  the  sails  of  the  sloops  and  schooners  were  flashing 
to  and  fro  like  white  clouds  driven  of  the  wind. 

Grace  understood  the  solicitude  which  prompted  the 
question,  and  she  turned  with  a  smile — not  her  old,  beam 
ing  one,  that  was  so  joyous  a  thing  to  see ;  this  had  in  it 
some  new  element  of  patience  and  pain. 

"  I  don't  know,  mother,"  said  the  girl ;  "  I  don't  feel 
much  like  going  out ;"  and  the  same  patient  pain  was  in 
her  voice  which  had  been  a  moment  before  in  her  smile. 

"  "Wall,  father  and  I  was  talking  about  it  after  dinner ; 
he  thinks  you  don't  take  the  air  enough.  I  think  it  would 
chirk  you  up  to  go  over  and  see  Selina  Williams  and  her 
mother.  They're  lively  sort  o'  folks,  and  I  want  to  get 
the  pattern  of  Isaac's  meetin'  coat  for  Benny." 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  can't !"  answered  Grace,  in  such  a  hope 
less  kind  of  voice  that  it  went  straight  to  her  mother's 
heart. 

"  Grace,"  she  said,  placing  her  hard,  thin  hand  on  her 


272  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

daughter's,  "  come,  chirk  up  ;  there's  a  good  girl !     Things 
'11  all  come  out  bright,  I  guess." 

Grace  looked  up  suddenly,  but  the  grateful  glance  wtos 
checked  by  the  rush  of  tears  in  her  eyes :  "  You're  a  good 
mother,"  she  said,  simply  speaking  her  uppermost  thought. 

"  I  wish  it  was  in  my  power  to  be  a  better  one,"  and  the 
tears  were  bright  in  the  mother's  eyes  too  ;  "  but  you  know, 
Grace,  I'd  do  anything  in  the  world  to  save  you  from  this 
anxiety  that  I  see  plain  enough's  wearin'  on  your  life." 

"  I  know  you  would,  you  and  father,  too.  Oh,  mother, 
if  God  didn't  help  me,  I  couldn't  bear  it !"  She  broke 
down  here  suddenly,  and  sobs  and  tears  shook  her  as  a 
storm  of  wind  and  rain  shakes  the  trees  in  midsummer. 

Mrs.  Palmer  put  her  arms  around  her  child  and  com 
forted  her  as  nobody  but  a  mother  can.  There  was  not 
perhaps  so  much  in  what  she  said,  for  Grace  knew  perfectly 
well  all  her  grounds  of  hope  and  fear ;  but  there  was  some 
thing  in  the  way  of  saying  it  which  went  straight  to  the 
daughter's  heart ;  and  Grace  looked  up  at  last  with  a  smile 
shining  through  her  tears. 

And  when  she  had  grown  calmer,  Mrs.  Palmer  reverted 
again  to  her  walk,  for  she  felt  that  change  of  scene,  how 
ever  slight,  was  what  Grace  needed  more  than  anything 
else.  "  I  wish  you'd  take  down  a  bowl  of  gooseberry  jam 
and  a  bottle  of  currant  wine  to  old  Miss  Bitter  that  lives  in 
the  lane,  jest  on  the  right  of  the  old  turnpike.  You  know 
she's  all  alone,  Grace,  and  kind  o'  poorly  this  summer,  and 
her  grandson's  down  South  to  the  war ;  and  it  '11  do  the  old 
woman  a  sight  of  good  to  see  a  young  pleasant  face  like 
yourn.  The  old  turnpike  road's  a  pleasant  'un,  too,  and  it 
ain't  more'n  a  mile  to  Miss  Bitter's  door." 

The  prospect  of  doing  some  good  stirred  Grace  at  once. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  273 

"  Yes,  I'll  go  there,  mother,"  she  said,  with  a  show  of 
cheerfulness  ;  and  Mrs.  Palmer  went  down  stairs,  congratu 
lating  herself  on  her  diplomacy. 

Grace's  mother  was  right.  The  soft  warm  afternoon, 
with  its  radiant  mists  going  and  coming  in  solemn  state  upon 
the  mountains,  was  one  which  belonged  only  to  the  early 
autumn.  Its  pulses  beat  soft  and  low  with  the  ripeness  of 
the  year ;  its  face  was  not  radiant  with  sunshine,  but  it 
shone  sweet  and  tender  in  the  eyes  of  the  girl  who  carried 
her  aching  heart  down  the  long,  lonely  turnpike  road,  with 
the  dark  rocks  on  one  side  and  the  brown  pastures  on  the 
other ;  and  something  of  the  stillness  and  gladness  of  the 
afternoon  got  into  Grace's  heart,  and  hushed  the  pain 
there ;  and  when  at  last  she  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mrs. 
Hitter's  low  brown  dwelling,  the  inward  peace  shone  in  her 
face. 

The  little  old  woman  that  bustled  to  the  front  door  in 
her  linsey-woolsey  dress  and  deep  yellow  cap'-frill,  gave 
Grace  a  most  demonstrative  welcome. 

"  It  beats  all  how  I've  been  wantin'  to  see  you  for  the 
last  two  hours.  I  can't  hardly  believe  my  eyes !  Grace, 
I've  got  some  news  for  you!" 

"  Have  you  ?  Well,  I  shall  be  ready  for  it  as  soon  as 
I've  disposed  of  something  mother  sent  you  with  her  love 
this  afternoon,"  placing  the  bowl  and  bottle  on  the  table. 

"  I  declare,  Grace,  your  mother's  a  masterpiece  for 
rememberin'  them  that  other  folks  is  apt  to  forget.  I  shall 
reckon  on  that  ere  wine  and  jam  as  though  'twas  so  much 
gold.  Things  all  smooth  to  home  ?" 

"  Very,  thank  you.  Now  for  the  news,  Mrs.  Bitter  ?" 
taking  a  chair.  "  You  see  I've  only  half  an  hour  to  give 
you." 

12* 


274:  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

Mrs.  Bitter  plunged  her  hand  into  a  very  deep  and  ple 
thoric  pocket  on  her  right  side,  and  produced,  with  a  look 
of  solemn  mystery,  a  large  and  somewhat  soiled  sheet,  and 
handed  it  to  Grace,  saying :  "  That  ere  was  writ  by 
Sam'wel  1" 

"  Mrs.  Eitter !"  gasped  Grace,  her  whole  face  lifting 
itself  into  eager  curiosity  as  she  looked  on  the  sheet,  for 
Mrs.  Bitter's  grandson  was  a  private  in  the  regiment  that 
Major  Dudley  had  joined. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  look  taken  aback,  Grace  ;  it  fairly 
did  me  up  when  the  letter  first  come.  Cap'n  Jacobs 
brought  it  up  to-day  from  New  York,  and  he  got  it 
straight  from  the  soldier  into  whose  hands  that  blessed  boy 
put  it.  I've  strained  my  eyes  over  the  lines,  Grace,  and 
I've  jest  made  out  enough  to  know  that  Sam'wel  is  alive 
and  doin'  well,  and  ain't  forgot  his  poor  old  grandma ;  but 
I've  been  wishin'  all  the  arternoon  that  I  could  get  your 
young  eyes  on  the  letter,  and  it  seems  as  though  the  Lord 
had  sent  you  jest  at  this  perticerler  minute !" 

•  Grace  opened  the  sheet  and  read  the  contents  to  the 
eager  old  woman.  The  letter  had  been  written  hastily  the 
day  after  the  battle.  Samuel  Bitter  had  just  escaped  being 
made  prisoner ;  and,  completely  exhausted  by  the  fight  and 
his  subsequent  escape,  he  had  crawled  to  the  house  of  a 
farmer  in  the  neighborhood  whose  son  was  the  next  day  to 
start  for  the  North,  bearing  dispatches  from  Gates  to  the 
Commander-in-Chief.  So  the  young  soldier  availed  himself 
of  this  opportunity  to  acquaint  his  grandmother  of  his  wel 
fare. 

"  Poor  Sam'wel,"  said  the  old  woman,  taking  off  her 
glasses  and  wiping  her  eyes  :  "  The  Lord's  spared  a  remnant 
of  my  family  to  my  old  age." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  275 

"Oh,  here's  a  postscript  I  didn't  observe!"  exclaimed 
Grace,  turning  over  the  sheet,  and  she  read : 

"  I  forgot  to  say  that,  just  after  the  last  charge  of  the 
enemy,  I  saw  Major  Dudley  fall  off  his  horse.  The  chances 
are  ninety-nine  to  a  hundred  that  he  was  killed  outright. 
He  was  a  brave  fellow,  and  all  the  boys  loved  him." 

Grace  read  these  words  steadily  to  the  end  like  one  who 
hardly  comprehended  them ;  then  the  letter  dropped  from 
her  hands  and  she  sat  staring  at  Mrs.  Eitter  with  a  face 
that  was  like  the  faces  of  the  dead. 

The  old  woman,  who  knew  perfectly  well  the  relation 
which  Grace  occupied  towards  Major  Dudley,  was  too 
overwhelmed  to  utter  a  single  word.  But  at  last  the 
silence  and  the  white  face  frightened  her  into  speech : 
"  Don't,  dear  child,  take  it  so,"  stammered  the  old  woman. 

Then  Grace  rose  up.  "  I  must  go  home,"  she  said,  in 
just  the  slow  leaden  tones  in  which  one  might  say:  "I 
must  go  to  my  death  ;"  and  before  Mrs.  Hitter  could  expos 
tulate  she  was  gone. 

Years  afterwards  Grace  could  recall  that  walk  home  on 
the  old  turnpike  road  and  every  object  which  met  her  on 
the  way,  although  she  was  unconscious  of  noticing  it  at  the 
time.  She  could  see  the  great,  swift,  silent  clouds,  as  they 
came  and  vanished  in  the  sky  like  dumb  witnesses  of  her 
anguish ;  she  could  see  the  golden  rod  waving  its  torches 
of  flame  by  the  stone  fences,  and  how  the  road  stretched 
its  long  blank  face  of  sodden  grass  before  her — the  long, 
long  road  that  seemed  to  her  to  lie  miles  and  miles  away 
before  it  reached  her  father's  door,  and  which  she  must 
tread,  step  by  step,  with  the  slow  pain  dilating  in  her  heart 
like  a  smouldering  fire,  which  she  expected  would  burst  up 
any  moment  and  suffocate  her. 


276  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

At  one  time — she  must  have  been  about  half  way  home 
then — a  little  golden  robin  alighted  suddenly  on  a  small 
ash  by  the  roadside  and  sang  out  brave  and  sweet  in  the 
deep  silence.  Grace  stood  still  and  looked  at  it,  and  won 
dered  that  anything  in  the  world  could  be  joyful  again. 
"What  a  world  it  seemed  to  her  then  !  How  utterly  blank 
and  desolate  !  And  yet  she  kept  on  with  her  face  set  towards 
her  home — kept  on  step  by  step  ;  step  by  step  ! 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  bustling  about  her  "china  closet," 
which  she  was  "  cleaning  out "  that  afternoon,  as  she  was 
expecting  the  Parson  and  the  Doctor  to  tea  on  the  following 
day.  She  was  carefully  wiping  the  "  sugar-tongs,"  when 
the  door  opened  and  Grace  suddenly  entered. 

"  Oh,  mother !"  she  said.  It  was  not  a  loud  cry,  but  her 
mother  started  as  though  a  sudden  blow  had  struck  her. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you,  my  child  ?"  she  said,  com 
ing  forward,  and  then  she  saw  the  white  face. 

"  Mother,  lie  is  dead  /"  said  Grace  Palmer,  and  she  sank 
down  into  a  chair  and  looked  up  in  her  mother's  face  and 
smiled.  Such  a  smile !  No  wonder  Mrs.  Palmer  closed  her 
eyes  involuntarily  as  one  does  before  a  sudden  burst  of 
blinding  light. 

"  Don't,  child  ;  don't,"  she  said,  sharply :  and  then  she 
opened  her  arms  and  Grace  lay  white  and  shivering  within 
them. 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  too  much  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  her 
child,  to  realize  the  loss  she  had  sustained.  She  carried 
Grace  into  the  bedroom,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  Deacon 
and  Benny  returned  together,  for  it  was  now  sunset.  The 
sight  of  his  darling  lying  there,  just  as  the  dead  lie,  with 
her  face  as  cold  and  white  as  the  linen  on  which  it  rested, 
was  too  much  for  the  old  man. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  277 

He  turned  away  and  left  her  with  her  mother,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life  Mrs.  Palmer's  heart  rose  up  against 
her  husband. 

But  he  came  back  in  a  few  moments  and  went  straight 
up  to  the  bedside  and  leaned  over  his  child,  stricken  almost 
to  death. 

"  Grace,"  said  the  soft,  solemn  voice  of  the  Deacon,  not 
knowing  whether  she  would  hear;  or  understand  ;  "  '  In  the 
day  of  my  trouble  I  will  call  upon  Thee ;  for  Thou  wilt 
answer  me.'  " 

She  opened  her  eyes  then  and  looked  at  her  father. 

"  You  know  Who  it  was  said  that,  my  poor  child  ?"  said 
the  shaking  voice  of  the  Deacon. 

"  Yes  ;  but  oh,  father !" 

"I  know  it,  my  daughter.  I  would  lay  down  my  life 
gladly  this  moment  to  bring  you  help  or  comfort ;  but  you 
are  in  those  deep  waters  now  where  no  human  arm  or  love 
can  reach  you.  Oh,  Grace,  you  have  not  believed  in  the 
Lord  for  naught.  He  will  not  forsake  you  now  !" 

She  turned  away  her  head  ;  the  slow  tears  oozed  out  of 
her  eyes,  and  the  father  knew  that  the  broken  heart  of  his 
child  was  comforted. 

"  Mother,  what  is  the  matter  with  Grace  ?"  asked  Benny 
in  a  loud  whisper,  seizing  hold  of  his  mother's  skirt  as  she 
left  the  bedroom  in  search  of  a  fan. 

"  She's  heard  that  Major  Dudley  is  dead,  Benny,"  an 
swered  the  weeping  mother. 

Benny's  face  expressed  deep  concern ;  still  he  continued : 
"  She  feels  as  bad  as  though  it  was  you,  or  father,  or  Eo- 
bert ;  and  it  isn't  half  so  bad  as  that." 

"  You  shouldn't  speak  so,  Benny.  Major  Dudley  was  a 
friend,  a  very  dear  friend  of  your  sister's." 


278  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  But  it  isn't  the  same  for  all  that,  you  know,  mother," 
subjoined  Benny,  with  some  show  of  indignation  ;  and  then 
suddenly  exclaimed,  as  though  a  new  idea  had  struck  him  : 
"  Maybe,  after  all,  he  isn't  dead !'' 

"  Why,  Benny  ?"  catching  faintly  at  these  words.  "  What 
makes  you  say  so  ?" 

"  Cos  they  all  thought  Ilezekiah  Street  was  dead  until 
t'other  news  came.  Whore  did  Grace  hear  it  ?" 

"  She  must  have  got  the  news  from  Miss  Bitter.  I 
haven't  been  able  to  get  one  word  out  of  her  sence  she 
came  home.  There,  Benny,  you  musn't  keep  mother  any 
longer." 

Benny  made  no  effort  to  do  so.  Without  speaking  a 
word  to  any  one,  he  put  on  his  cap  and  trudged  over  the 
turnpike  to  Mrs.  Bitter's,  with  whom  he  happened  to  be  an 
especial  favorite.  He  found  the  old  woman  in  extreme 
anxiety  about  Grace,  and  soon  drew  from  her  all  the  know 
ledge  she  possessed  of  Major  Dudley's  fate.  The  boy  also 
applied  for  the  letter  of  Samuel  Bitter,  and  obtained  it  to 
show  to  his  father;  and  just  as  he  reached  the  threshold 
he  turned  and  said,  in  his  solemn,  tremulous  way :  "  Maybe 
he  isn't  dead  after  all,  Aunty  ?" 

"  What  has  put  that  into  your  head,  child  ?"  asked  the 
old  woman  ;  but  he  was  beyond  the  range  of  her  voice. 

Great  was  the  Deacon's  surprise  when  his  youngest  born 
placed  the  letter  of  Samuel  Bitter  in  his  hands ;  and  the 
surprise  was  not  diminished  when  he  discovered  the  man 
ner  in  which  he  obtained  it ;  but  Benny's  acuteness  had  for 
once  done  better  service  than  the  wisdom  of  his  elders ; 
for,  after  possessing  himself  of  the  contents  of  the  letter, 
the  Deacon  and  his  wife  both  cherished  a  faint  hope  that 
Edward  Dudley  might  still  survive. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  279 

Grace  shook  her  drooping  head  when  they  first  endea 
vored  to  communicate  this  hope  to  her ;  but  the  words 
found  their  way  into  her  heart  and  made  a  little  light 
there — just  as  the  stars  of  that  autumn  night  which  settled 
darkly  over  the  homestead  of  Deacon  Palmer  made  a  faint 
frilling  of  light  on  the  sky. 

Afterwards  Grace  Palmer  did  not  yield  to  the  blow 
which  had  fallen  on  her  life.  The  clay  following  she  rose 
from  her  bed  and  went  about  her  household  duties  busily 
as  ever,  only  more  silent.  Mrs.  Palmer  did  not  expostulate 
with  her  daughter.  The  education  and  the  habits  of  the 
Deacon's  wife  tended  strongly  to  convince  her  that  "  indul 
gence  in  the  luxury  of  grief"  was  unwise,  if  not  sinful ;  and 
that  active,  engrossing  labor  was  the  next  best  thing  to  the 
grace  of  God  for  any  sorrow  that  was  inevitable. 

And  so,  though  her  heart  yearned  with  unutterable  ten 
derness  over  her  child,  and  she  followed  with  eyes  of  wist 
ful  solicitude  the  rapid  figure  as  it  moved  in  and  out  of 
the  room  at  its  customary  morning  duties,  the  mother,  on 
the  whole,  took  pains  to  expand  rather  than  diminish  the 
day's  labor,  and  Grace  made  no  objection  ;  only,  looking  in 
her  eyes,  one  saw  that  some  great  sudden  storm  of  anguish 
had  beaten  down  on  her  life  and  torn  up  its  roots. 

Once  that  morning,  however,  the  girl's  heart  gave  way. 
She  had  gone  into  the  parlor,  at  her  mother's  request,  to 
bring  out  a  jar  of  plum  preserves  which  Mrs.  Palmer  fear 
ed  had  begun  to  "  work."  As  she  crossed  the  threshold 
the  old  memories  surged  in  upon  her  soul.  There  was  the 
old  lounge  where  he  had  sat  last;  and  she  seemed  once 
more  to  look  up  into  the  strong,  handsome  face,  and  hear 
the  low,  tender  voice  ;  and  then  she  thought  of  the  stately 
head,  with  its  beautiful  brown  hair  lying  white  and  daggled 


280  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

on  that  dusty  battle-field  ;  it  was  too  much.  Grace  Palmer 
sank  down  on  the  low  stool  where  she  had  sat  that  last 
time  with  Edward  Dudley,  and  low  sobs  of  utter  desolation 
shivered  and  surged  through  her. 

At  last,  wondering  at  her  long  absence,  her  mother 
came  softly  to  the  door  and  put  her  anxious  face  inside. 
She  saw  Grace  sitting  there  bowed  under  that  tempest 
of  anguish.  Mrs.  Palmer  made  a  movement  forward,  for 
her  first  impulse  was  to  spring  to  her  child's  side ;  but  a 
second  thought  checked  her.  This  great  grief  was  beyond 
even  the  reach  of  her  mother's  sympathy,  and  Mrs.  Pal 
mer  left  the  room  on  tiptoe  ;  and  an  hour  later  Grace 
came  out  with  her  pale,  calm  face,  and  set  quietly  about 
the  work  she  had  left. 

"  I  guess  the  Lord's  heard  my  prayer,"  thought  Mrs. 
Palmer. 

And  so  the  days  went  over  Grace  Palmer.  There  was 
nothing  for  her  to  do  but  to  "  wait  patiently"  for  the  tid 
ings  which  yet  her  soul  shrank  from  meeting;  for  Grace's 
sound  judgment  taught  her  that  the  chances  for  Major 
Dudley's  life  were  just  what  Samuel  Hitter  had  written. 
Yet  her  heart  would  cling,  as  what  woman's  heart  will 
not,  to  its  faint  hope  still ;  and  for  the  rest,  Grace  had 
Refuge  that  was  to  her  soul  the  shadow  of  a  Rock  in 
a  weary  land. 

There  were  hours  when  her  faith  could  look  even  this 
great  loss  in  the  face  ;  hours  when  she  felt  that  she  could 
give  up  Edward  Dudley  to  the  will  of  God.  He  would 
not  be  dead  to  her ;  the  true,  noble,  manly  spirit  that  she 
had  loved  lived  somewhere,  doing  the  will  and  the  work 
of  God  as  she  would  do  it  on  earth.  She  would  still  -be 
worthy  of  him — knit  to  him  by  a  love  which  reached  be- 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  281 

yond  the  grave  and  rested  in  the  one  eternal  love.  She 
would  live  cheerfully,  bravely,  if  not  happily,  doing  to 
others  all  the  good  she  could,  and  rejoicing  that  every 
setting  sun  brought  her  a  little  closer  to  the  time  of  their 
long  meeting ;  and  when  the  morning  light  wakened  her 
once  more  to  the  day's  work  and  waiting,  she  would  re 
member  that  one  more  night  of  the  long  absence  was  pass 
ed.  And  the  heart  of  Grace  Palmer  said  to  herself  what, 
long  years  after,  the  greatest  of  her  sisters  sang : 

"  I  praise  Thee  while  my  days  go  on  ; 
I  love  Thee  while  my  days  go  on  ; 
Through  dark  and  dearth,  through  fire  and  frost, 
With  emptied  arms  and  treasure  lost, 
I  thank  Thee  while  my  days  go  on !" 

The  girl's  parents  sometimes  wondered  at  the  solemn 
light  and  joy  which  shone  in  her  face — the  face  which 
grew  paler  and  thinner  every  day ;  but  they  knew  what 
springs  fed  that  light,  and  they  thanked  God  for  their  child. 

Do  not  think,  0  reader,  that  I  write  of  Grace  Palmer 
that  it  was  always  thus.  She  would  have  been  more  than 
human  if  it  had  been.  There  were  times  when  her  heart  and 
her  faith  failed  her ;  when  the  sense  of  her  great  loss  over- 
swept  her  soul  in  a  wild  freshet  of  agony  ;  times  when  she 
looked  off  to  her  future,  stretching  blank  and  desolate  down 
the  years  before  her  as  the  sodden  turnpike  had  stretched 
tfiat  day  towards  her  home,  and  the  girl's  grief  would  reach 
up  in  a  cry  :  "  O  God  !  it  is  more  than  I  can  bear  !"  and 
the  prayer  would  rise  to  her  lips :  "  Let  me  die  and  go  to 
him,"  and  stop  there ;  for  Grace  Palmer  knew  she  had  no 
right  to  speak  it.  Was  it  strange  that  her  faith  went  into 
these  eclipses  ?  She  was  young  and  her  heart  was  so  utter 
ly  stricken  ? 


282  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"THERE,  now,  see  what  you've  done!"   exclaimed  Lucy 
Trueman,  in  a  tone  made  up  of  vexation  and  deprecation. 

"  Oh,  Benny,  you  are  a  naughty,  careless  boy !"  added 
Grace,  in  tones  just  touched  with  severity. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to,"  answered  the  boy,  plunging  his  fin 
gers  in  his  hair  and  looking  somewhat  ruefully  at  the  red 
beads  which  he  had  just  upset  from  a  large  china-saucer, 
and  which  sprinkled  the  sanded  floor  like  the  red  coral  moss- 
blossoms  among  grey  leaves. 

"  I'll  help  you  gather  them  up,  Lucy,  in  one  minute," 
said  Grace,  as  she  threaded  a  very  fine  needle  with  silk. 

"  No,  Grace ;  if  you'll  finish  the  bud,  I'll  save  the 
beads,"  and  Lucy  bent  herself  to  work  on  the  floor. 

The  girl  was  working  a  large  pincushion  for  her  mother's 
"  spare  chamber,"  and  she  had  come  over  that  afternoon  to 
get  some  advice  from  Grace  respecting  the  centre  flower. 
This,  at  least,  was  her  ostensible  purpose ;  but  of  late 
Lucy  Trueman  had  found  some  excuse  for  showing  herself 
at  the  Deacon's  almost  every  day  ;  and  Grace  understood 
well  enough  the  kindly  sympathy  which  prompted  the  fre 
quent  visits,  although  very  few  allusions  were  made,  after 
the  first  meeting,  to  the  subject  that  was  never  absent  from 
the  thoughts  of  either.  But  Lucy  proved  herself  so  solici 
tous  at  this  juncture;  she  made  such  constant  efforts,  and 
with  so  much  tact  and  good  sense,  to  interest  and  divert 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  283 

Grace,  to  draw  her  from  the  terrible  thoughts  that  would. 
sometimes  come  upon  her ;  she  was  so  full  of  tender  yet 
judicious  sympathy,  that  Grace  could  not  but  respond  to 
her  friend's  efforts,  and  be  deeply  touched  by  the  affection 
ate  care  which  they  evinced. 

"  It's  a  beauty,  Grace  !"  exclaimed  Lucy,  putting  her 
face  over  her  friend's  shoulder  and  surveying  the  moss 
rose-bud  which  was  opening  itself  on  a  groundwork  of 
white  satin.  "  Come,  now,  let's  put  it  up  and  go  out 
doors  awhile.  I  do  hate  to  waste  such  pleasant  days 
in  the  house.  There  won't  be  many  more  of  them,  you 
know." 

"  I  know,"  strangling  a  little  sigh,  which,  however, 
did  not  escape  the  ear  of  Lucy  as  she  rose  up  and  went 
for  her  sun-bonnet. 

They  went  down  to  the  orchard,  Lucy  leading  the 
way  and  Grace  following  indifferently,  for  her  thoughts 
were  with  that  afternoon,  six  weeks  before,  on  which  she 
had  walked  over  the  turnpike.  The  frost  had  been 
busy  among  the  trees  since  that  time,  and  the  maples 
flamed  in  the  woods,  and  the  russet  and  yellow  leaves 
were  dropping  from  the  fruit-boughs  with  every  puff 
of  wind. 

Lucy  led  the  way  to  the  old  apple-tree  in  the  centre 
of  the  orchard — the  very  one  to  which  Grace  had  con 
ducted  the  minister's  nephew  on  the  first  night  of  their 
meeting.  Had  Lucy  known  what  associations  clustered 
around  this  peculiar  tree  she  would  certainly  have  avoid 
ed  it. 

"Isn't  it  pleasant?"  said  Lucy,  pulling  off  her  sun- 
bonnet  and  seating  herself  on  the  long  grass  amid  which 
the  red  apples  burned. 


284  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"Very  pleasant,"  said  Grace,  with  a  start,  coming  back 
to  the  present  and  gazing  about  her ;  and  then  there  came 
one  of  those  sudden  thrills  and  rushes  of  feeling  that 
break  down  all  barriers,  as  that  autumn  night,  six  years 
before,  rose  up  to  her. 

"  Oh,  dear  I"  she  said,  and  burying  her  face  in  her  hands, 
she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Grace,  I'm  so  sorry  for  you !"  whispered  Lucy,  draw 
ing  close  up  to  her  friend;  "only  it  don't  do  any  good  to 
say  so." 

Grace  did  not  speak  for  a  while ;  at  last  she  looked 
up  with  pale  lips  that  seemed  seeking  after  a  ghost  of  a 
smile. 

"  There's  no  need  of  your  telling  me,  Lucy,  that  you're 
sorry.  I  feel  it  all  the  time." 

"  Poor  Grace,"  stroking  her  friend's  shoulder  in  her 
pretty  caressing  way.  "  But  you're  so  brave,  so  dif 
ferent  from  what  I  should  be,"  and  Lucy  shuddered  a 
little. 

"  Not  always,  Lucy,"  shaking  her  head  sadly.  "  There 
are  times  when  it  all  comes  over  me,  and  it  seems  as 
though  I  should  be  crushed  at  once.  I  seem  to  see 
him  lying  there  on  the  battle-field  with  the  clouds  of 
smoke  and  dust  and  the  roar  of  cannon  all  about  him. 
I  hear  the  cries  of  the  wounded,  the  moans  of  the  dying, 
and  I  see  the  bright  flashes  of  musketry  and  the  wild 
^  riderless  horses  going  to  and  fro.  But  I  see  the  clearest 
of  all  that  white,  still  face,  with  the  closed  eyes  and  the 
matted  hair,  and  the  blood  trickling  over  it ;  and  I  think, 
Lucy,  if  I  could  have  been  there  just  one  little  moment  to 
have  lifted  up  his  head,  to  have  heard  his  last  blessing, 
to  have  had  one  little  faint  smile" — she  stopped  here. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  285 

Lucy  did  not  dare  look  at  her  friend;  she  turned  away 
with  a  little  groan. 

It  was  Grace's  voice  broke  the  silence.  The  anguish 
was  gone  out  of  her  face  when  she  turned  it  around  once 
more  to  Lucy  and  said : 

"  It  is  best  so,  for  it  was  God's  will  1" 

Lucy  Trueman  looked  on  her  friend  with  a  new  yearn 
ing  for  a  faith  which  could  sustain  her  in  so  awful  a  trial ; 
but  she  did  not  say  this ;  her  words  were  : 

"  There  is  room  for  hope  yet,  Grace ;  he  may  not  have 
been  killed." 

"Whatever  Grace's  answer  would  have  been,  it  was  cut 
short  by  the  appearance  of  Nathaniel  walking  hurriedly 
up  to  the  front  door. 

"  He  must  be  after  me,"  exclaimed  Lucy,  with  a  little 
chagrin  in  her  voice.  "  Company  at  home,  I  s'pose," 
and  she  sprang  up  and  called  her  brother  loudly. 

Nathaniel  wheeled  about   and  hurried  to  the  orchard. 

The  young  man's  face  was  full  of  excitement  and  eager 
ness  as  he  approached  the  girls. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  tell  me  ?"  asked  Lucy,  interpret 
ing  the  expression. 

"  'Tisn't  for  you  ;  it's  for  Grace." 

"  Oh,  Nathaniel,  have  you  got  good  news  for  me  I"  cried 
Grace,  a  quick  intuition  springing  her  to  her  feet. 

"I  think  I  have,  Grace."  Then  seeing  her  agitation, 
and  fearing  lest  the  suddenness  of  the  news  might  prove 
too  much  for  her,  the  young  soldier  added  lightly :  "  I 
didn't  expect  to  find  you  two  girls  turned  gipsies  and 
camping  Bunder  an  apple-tree." 

"  Tell  me,  Nathaniel,"  cried  Grace,  taking  no  notice  of 
his  jest. 


286  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHEES. 

And  Nathaniel  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  gave 
it  into  her  hands  with  some  misgivings. 

"  It's  his  writing,"  was  all  he  said. 

So  it  was !  The  girl's  eager  eyes  confirmed  it,  and  Grace 
sank  down  on  the  grass. 

"  Let  us  leave  her,"  whispered  Lucy  to  her  brother, 
some  fine  instinct  teaching  her  that  Grace  should  be  alone 
now. 

It  was  some  time  before  Grace  knew  they  were  gone. 
She  sat  there  with  the  letter  lying  on  her  knee,  her  eyes 
devouring  the  handwriting  while  she  seemed  incapable  of 
opening  it.  But  this  did  not  last  long.  The  seal  was 
broken  and  the  letter  was  : 

"  Be  comforted,  dear  Grace,  for  /  live  ;  and  the  thought 
that  you  might  be  mourning  me  as  dead  has  been  bitterer 
than  all  the  pain  which  I  have  endured  in  the  last  two 
months.  You  have  learned  before  this  of  the"  defeat  of 
our  army  at  Camden,  and  since  then  I  have  been  a  pri 
soner  of  war  in  the  enemy's  hospital. 

"  I  have  no  knowledge  of  the  time  when  I  was  taken 
off  the  battle-field,  or  of  days  after  that.  I  had  a  bad 
shot  in  the  right  leg,  and  the  surgeon  says  I  shall  be  lame 
for  life. 

"  Don't  take  it  hard,  dear.  It  is  not  so  bad  as  it  seemed 
that  it  must  be  a  little  while  ago ;  for,  Grace,  I  have  been 
nigh  unto  death  I 

"  I  am  better  now  ;  out  of  danger,  the  doctors  say,  and 
with  a  brave  heart  although  a  very  feeble  hand,  as  these 
tremulous  letters  bear  witness. 

"  Look  only  at  the  bright  side,  my  darling.  There  is 
much  for  which  to  say,  '  Thank  God  1' 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  287 

"I  am  in  comfortable  quarters,  and  the  weather  will 
grow  cooler  soon.  I  shall  be  exchanged  when  my  tarn 
comes ;  till  then  we  must  both  have  courage  and  pa 
tience. 

"My  physician  interdicts  longer  writing.  Be  of  good 
cheer,  oh  my  beloved,  for  the  sake  of  your 

"  EDWARD." 

Nearly  an  hour  had  passed  before  Grace  rose  up  from 
her  seat  under  the  apple-tree.  She  went  up  to  the  house. 
I  need  not  say  how  different  the  world  looked  to  her. 

Mrs.  Palmer  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  kitchen  carding  wool ; 
on  one  side  of  her  the  white  pile  lay  like  a  fleecy  cloud 
dropped  from  the  sky. 

"Mother,  Edward's  alive!"  said  Grace;  and  her  voice 
made  the  words  a  song. 

The  wool  dropped  from  Mrs.  Palmer's  hands.  "  What 
did  you  say,  Grace  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  said  Edward  was  alive,  mother." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  His  own  handwriting  says  so ;  here  it  is  1" 

"  Oh,  child !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer ;  and  here  she 
broke  into  tears,  and  Grace  put  her  arms  around  her 
mother,  and  they  wept  their  tears  of  joy  together. 

Nathaniel  and  Lucy  had  been  unwilling  to  return  home 
until  they  were  satisfied  of  Major  Dudley's  safety ;  although 
the  former  had  little  doubt  of  this,  for  he  was  perfectly 
familiar  with  the  young  officer's  handwriting.  The  bro 
ther  and  sister  concluding  that  by  this  time  Grace's  first 
agitation  would  have  somewhat  subsided,  presented  them 
selves  once  more  at  the  Deacon's  to  hear  the  good  tidings, 
which  it  did  not  take  loner  to  communicate. 


288  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  get  this  letter,  Nathaniel  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Palmer,  anticipating  her  daughter's  question. 

"  I  happened  to  be  at  the  post-office  when  the  stage  came 
in,  and  as  Mr.  Jacobs  had  an  attack  of  rheumatism  and 
couldn't  leave  his  bed,  I  offered  to  open  the  bags  for 
him  ;  and  when  I  saw  Grace's  letter  I  knew  what  it 
meant." 

And  he  turned  and  smiled  on  Grace,  and  she  answered 
him  ;  and  the  smiles  of  both  were  beautiful  to  see. 

"  You  must  stay  to  tea,  both  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer, 
getting  up  and  shaking  from  her  apron  the  little  spray  of 
wool  which  clung  to  it.  "  We'll  all  rejoice  together  over 
these  gl  ad  tidings." 

"  I  want  to  have  a  little  piece  of  rejoicing  to  myself," 
said  Lucy,  with  her  light  laughter  between  the  words. 
"  Come  up  stairs,  Grace,  and  we'll  leave  Nathaniel  and 
your  mother  to  congratulate  each  other." 

Lucy  bestowed  her  friend  with  playful  violence  in  the 
large  rocking-chair,  and  seated  herself  on  the  arm,  and 
taking  the  soft  cheeks  between  her  palms,  she  broke  out : 

"  Now,  Grace,  darling,  how  do  you  feel  ?  I  am  so  glad  ; 
so  glad  for  you." 

"  I  hardly  know  how  I  feel,  now  the  first  great  surprise 
and  joy  is  over;  only  I  am  just  beginning  to  realize  that 
he  is — "  her  lips  quivered,  she  could  not  yet  speak  the 
words  Edward  Dudley  had  written  of  himself. 

Lucy  was  ready  and  skilful  in  comfort.  "  But  it  isn't 
a  quarter  as  bad  as  it  might  be  if  he  had  lost  his  eyes,  or 
one  of  his  limbs,  or  been  cut  up  as  many  poor  fellows  are, 
Why,  it's  nothing  in  comparison,  Grace." 

"  I  know,  and  I  shall  always  remember  this ;  but,  when 
I  think  that  I  shall  never  watch  him  go  down  to  the  gate 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  289 

again  with  his  quick,.manly  step,  that  he  is  maimed  for  life, 
it  is  hard  at  first.  Maybe  I  was  too  proud  of  him."  She 
said  this  with  a  touching  humility. 

Lucy  argued,  and  comforted,  and  sympathized;  and 
Grace  smiled  faintly,  and  listened,  and  struggled  with 
herself,  until  Mrs.  Palmer  summoned  the  two  girls  down 
stairs. 

Grace  found  that  her  father  had  returned ;  and  when  he 
saw  her,  in  the  overflow  of  his  joy  and  sympathy  the  Dea 
con  took  her  in  his  arms  before  them  all  and  kissed  her. 
"  My  daughter,  the  Lord  has  been  very  good  to  us !"  was 
his  simple  comment. 

And  when  they  sat  round  the  Deacon's  table  that  night, 
heaped  with  a  little  more  than  its  usual  abundance,  Na 
thaniel  said  :  "  I  can't  tell  you,  Grace,  what  a  burden  lifted 
itself  from  my  thoughts  when  I  saw  that  letter.  I've  felt 
for  the  last  three  weeks  as  though  I'd  lost  my  best 
friend." 

"  Complimentary  to  mother  and  me !"  said  Lucy,  with 
her  pretty,  pert  toss  of  the  head. 

"  Well,  then,  withdraw  your  interdict  about  my  joining 
the  regiment  this  fall  and  I'll  except  you  both." 

Lucy  shook  her  head,  and  the  Deacon  interposed  :  "  Na- 
thaniel,  you  served  your  country  well  while  you  could ; 
and  it  would  have  been  foolhardy  to  j'in  the  army  so  long 
as  your  health  was  so  frail.  You  owe  some  care  of  your 
life,  my  boy,  to  your  mother  and  sister." 

"  I  know  it,  sir ;  and  the  one  great  aim  of  their  existence 
seems  to  be  to  prove  to  me  that  I'm  made  of  nothing  bet 
ter  than  fine  porcelain.  But  when  I  think  of  Dudley  and 
Eobert,  and  a  hundred  other  brave  fellows  in  the  field,  it 
seems  a  burning  shame  for  me  to  be  staying  here  at  home 

13 


290  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

poring  over  my  books ;"  and  Nathaniel's  face  flashed  and 
faded  a  little  as  he  caught  Lucy's  deprecating  eyes. 

"  Perhaps  there'll  come  a  chance  for  you  yet,  Nathaniel," 
said  the  Deacon ;  and  though  no  one  took  particular  notice 
of  this  speech  at  the  time,  they  all  remembered  it  afterwards. 
"  It's  been  a  strange  summer,"  continued  the  Deacon,  a  little 
later,  "  with  men's  minds  kept  constantly  on  the  watch  for 
movements  of  the  enemy  and  the  tidings  down  South  ;  but 
there's  nothin'  equalled  that  treachery  of  Benedict  Arnold's." 

"  Yes,  that  does  beat  all,"  subjoined  Mrs.  Palmer,  as  she 
passed  her  cake ;  "  I  knew  his  mother,  Miss  Arnold,  almost 
as  well  as  I  do  yours,  Lucy ;  and  she  was  a  good,  pious 
woman,  and  brought  her  son  up  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord, 
if  ever  a  mother  did.  It  would  have  broken  her  heart  out 
right  if  she'd  known  that  he'd  ever  turn  traitor  to  his 
country.  Dear  me  !  mothers  don't  know  what  their  boys 
is  a  coming  to  !"  and  she  glanced  anxiously  towards  Benny, 
who  was  quite  too  much  absorbed  investigating  the  sub 
stratum  of  his  cake  of  dried  currants  to  perceive  the  drift 
of  her  remark. 

"  It  was  one  of  the  blackest  deeds  that  history  ever  re 
corded,"  added  Nathaniel  Trueman.  "  And  what  has  the 
gained  from  his  treachery,  looked  at  from  a  merely 
material  stand-point  ? — the  scorn  of  every  honest  heart  in 
the  world,  the  execrations  of  all  his  own  countrymen  ; 
certainly  it  hasn't  paid  this  time  to  serve  the  devil,  Deacon 
Palmer." 

"  It  never  does,  my  boy,  in  the  long  run." 

"  But  there's  that  poor  Major  Andre,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Palmer.  "I  declare  it  did  seem  dreadful  to  have  that 
young  man  hung,  father !  Think  of  his  poor  mother  and 
sisters !" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  29l 

"It  was  one  of  the  awful  necessities  of  war;  and  that 
can't  al'ajs  take  mothers  and  sisters  into  consideration." 

"What  a  dreadful  thing  war  is  !"  said  Lucy  Trueman, 
her  bright  face  clouded  with  seriousness. 

"  Dreadful !  But  dishonor  and  slavery  are  worse  !"  said 
the  Deacon. 

And  so  the  talk  went  and  came,  very  much  as  ours  does 
now,  round  that  supper-table  in  the  days  of  the  Kevolutiou. 


292  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

ANOTHER  year  had  come  and  gone,  and  the  day  long 
dreaded  dawned  at  last  for  New  London.  It  was  a  pleasant 
autumn  morning,  that  sixth  of  September  which  we  all 
have  read  of ;  the  apples  were  ripening  in  the  orchard,  the 
nuts  in  the  forests ;  no  touch  of  the  frost  had  shrivelled  the 
leaves  into  yellow  parchment  or  burned  them  into  crimson ; 
it  was  a  fair  and  peaceful  morning,  with  white  mists  like  a 
camp  of  shining  tents  unfurled  on  the  distant  hills ;  the 
sweet  exhilarating  scent  of  sassafras,  and  pine,  and  fern 
filled  the  air ;  the  birds  sang  the  joyful  songs  they  had 
sung  through  all  the  summer  mornings  which  had  just  gone 
by,  and  the  blue  smoke  curled  up  lazily  from  the  many 
homesteads  of  the  pleasant  town,  that  sat  that  morning  as 
it  would  never  again  sit  by  the  blue  Thames. 

With  the  early  dawn  of  that  day  whose  history  was  to 
be  written  in  fire  and  blood,  and  in  one  of  the  most  shame 
ful  massacres  that  ever  disgraced  humanity,  the  inhabitants 
of  New  London  were  aroused  from  their  slumbers  by  the 
alarm  guns  from  Fort  Griswold  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
.Thames.  Anxious  faces  were  soon  peering  from  every 
window  and  house-top  towards  the  large  fleet  of  the  enemy 
which  stood  off  the  harbor.  And  when  the  sun  rose,  it 
rose  on  a  distracted  town  and  on  a  heart-rending  scene. 

The  inhabitants  knew  too  well  the  character  of  the 
enemy  they  had  to  deal  with  to  dare  to  trust  themselves 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  293 

in  his  power,  and  there  was  no  resource  but  to  seek  safety 
in  flight.  The  streets  were  full  of  mothers  hurrying  away 
with  their  little  children  ;  of  old  and  young  alike  seeking 
some  place  of  refuge ;  cries  of  terror,  confusion,  lamenta 
tion  filled  the  sweet  morning  air,  and  all  this  time  the 
proud  war-ships  rode  slow  and  threatening  towards  the 
town. 

Sir  Henry  Clinton  had  discovered  at  last  the  destination 
of  the  American  army,  which  its  Commander  had  concealed 
from  him  by  such  a  series  of  masterly  manoeuvres.  That 
army  was  now  far  on  its  march  to  Yorktown  to  join  the 
forces  assembled  there.  The  British  general  saw  at  once 
the  great  advantage  which  Washington  had  gained  by  this 
move,  and  the  imminent  peril  to  which  Lord  Cornwallis 
•would  now  be  subjected.  Stung  with  mortification  and 
filled  with  apprehension  on  first  learning  the  destination  of 
the  American  army,  Sir  Henry  Clinton  resolved,  as  a  kind 
of  counterplot,  to  strike  a  fearful  blow  on  New  London, 
which  might  possibly  have  the  effect  of  detaching  a  part 
of  the  troops  intended  for  Yorktown  for  the  protection  of 
Connecticut ;  and  the  command  of  this  expedition,  which 
signalized  itself  by  all  that  is  barbarous  and  bloodthirsty 
in  warfare,  was  given  to  the  arch-traitor,  Benedict 
Arnold! 

"Daughter,"  said  Deacon  Palmer,  giving  the  spy-glass  to 
his  daughter,  for  the  signal  guns  had  aroused  the  family  at 
the  homestead,  "  your  eyes  are  younger  than  mine.  Look 
off  to  the  southward  and  tell  us  all  you  see." 

The  Deacon  and  his  daughter  were  at  the  top  of  the 
house.  Mrs.  Palmer  and  Benny  stood  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder  which  led  to  the  scuttle,  awaiting,  the  one  with  trem 
bling  anxiety,  the  other  with  boyish  curiosity,  for  the  tid- 


294  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OTJR  FATHERS. 

ings.  Grace  steadied  the  glass  and  swept  the  harbor  with 
her  gaze. 

"  There  is  a  fleet  of  ships  and  transports  sufficient  to 
carry  thousands  of  troops.  They  are  moving  straight  to 
wards  the  town !  Oh,  father,  what  shall  we  do  ?"  setting 
down  the  glass. 

"  What  shall  we  do,  father  ?"  echoed  Mrs.  Palmer  at  the 
foot  of  the  ladder. 

"Look  to  the  Lord  for  help  against  the  mighty!"  an 
swered  the  solemn  voice  of  the  Deacon ;  and  the  words 
strengthened  all  their  hearts. 

Deacon  Palmer  took  hasty  counsel  with  his  family. 

"  Don't  you  think  we'd  better  set  to  work  and  pack  up 
and  hide  as  much  as  we  can?  The  British '11  take  and 
destroy  whatever  they  can  lay  their  hands  on  !"  asked  Mrs. 
Palmer,  trying  to  speak  very  calmly. 

"  I  don't  think  they'll  be  very  likely  to  get  out  as  far  as 
here.  The  militia'll  be  on  hand  to  hold  'em  back,  but 
they'll  fight  at  fearful  odds.  You  may  as  well  pack  up 
your  silver  and  any  little  trinkets  you  or  Grace  have,  and 
I'll  bury  'em  with  my  papers  at  the  back  of  the  barn.  As 
for  the  household  goods,  there's  no  use  in  try  in'  to  conceal 
'em,  and  we  must  leave  them  to  take  their  chance." 

"I'd  like  to  see  them  British  come  to  my  house!"  ex 
claimed  Benjamin,  who  had  listened  to  all  this  conver 
sation  with  wide  eyes  and  mouth,  and  he  dashed  his  small 
fists  fiercely  in  the  air  at  an  imaginary  foe. 

"  Oh,  Benny,  poor  child,  what  could  you  do  !"  exclaimed 
his  mother,  looking  at  him  sorrowfully. 

"  I  could  do  a  great  deal  I"  his  self-esteem  somewhat 
wounded.  "  Ain't  I  nine  years  old  ?" 

Mrs.  Palmer  did  not  smile  now,  as  under  other  circum- 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  295 

stances  she  would  have  been  very  likely  to  do ;  and  the 
next  moment  her  youngest  born  set  off  energetically  to 
assist  his  father  in  preparing  a  place  of  concealment  for 
whatever  was  most  valuable  or  precious  to  his  family. 

Grace  went  to  her  own  room  and  took  out  Edward's 
portrait,  and  gazing  on  the  beloved  features,  a  thrill  of 
thankfulness  went  over  her  that  both  he  and  Robert  were  ab 
sent,  and  that  she  was  spared  from  the  haunting  anxiety 
which  would  fill  so  many  hearts  that  day ;  and  then  she 
thought  with  a  pang  of  Nathaniel  Trueman  and  his  mother  ; 
he  was  at  home ;  he  would  be  among  the  first  to  join  the 
militia  that  the  signal  guns  were  calling  together  to  resist 
the  progress  of  the  foe. 

Grace  had  not  seen  her  betrothed  during  this  year,  as 
she  had  at  one  time  ventured  to  hope.  He  had  remained 
at  the  hospital  nearly  until  spring  on  account  of  his  wounds, 
and  when  at  last  he  was  exchanged,  did  not  solicit  a  fur 
lough,  as  he  had  previously  anticipated  doing,  because  of 
the  arrival  of  his  friend  General  Greene  at  the  South.  The 
latter,  on  taking  command  of  the  Southern  army,  had  ear 
nestly  entreated  that  the  young  officer  would  remain  with 
him.  The  Major  had  recently  been  promoted  to  the  rank 
of  Colonel. 

The  various  articles  which  it  was  thought  best  to  secure 
were  hastily  stowed  in  a  strong  box  and  buried  in  the 
rear  of  the  barn.  Then  Deacon  Palmer  returned  to  his 
wife  and  said  quietly,  but  in  that  kind  of  voice  which 
showed  that  his  mind  was  made  up  : 

"  Wife,  give  me  your  blessing,  for  I'm  goin'  to  start 
right  off  to  j'in  the  militia  !" 

"  Oh,  father,  such  an  old  man  as  you !"  gasped  the  de 
precating  voices  of  the  wife  and  daughter. 


296  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  No  matter  for  my  age,  so  long  as  I've  got  stout  muscle 
enough  in  this  right  arm  to  aim  a  musket.  Every  man 
that  can  do  that,  old  or  young,  ought  to  set  out  now.  Mo 
ther — Grace,  you  won't  be  the  one  to  keep  me  from  doing 
my  duty?" 

The  two  pale  women  could  not  say  a  word.  The  Deacon 
went  up  stairs  and  brought  down  his  musket.  His  wife 
slipped  his  breakfast  into  his  hands.  Then  the  old  man 
commended  his  family  "  to  the  love  of  God,"  and  set  out. 

Grace  and  her  mother  went  to  the  top  of  the  house  once 
more,  and  watched  the  ships  anchor  and  the  debarkation 
of  the  enemy.  They  landed  in  two  divisions  of  about 
eight  hundred  men  each  on  either  side  of  the  river. 

Arnold  had  command  of  the  division  on  the  New  Lon 
don  side,  and  the  two  women  traced  with  fear  and  anguish 
the  path  of  the  British  troops  by  the  gleam  of  their  scarlet 
uniforms  through  the  foliage.  But  in  a  short  time  they 
were  summoned  down  again.  All  the  roads  leading  from 
New  London  were  filled  with  groups  of  panic-stricken 
women  and  children,  fleeing  from  their  homes  and  seeking 
shelter  at  the  farm-houses  along  the  road. 

They  met  everywhere  with  cordial  reception,  but  found 
nowhere  a  warmer  and  more  sympathetic  welcome  than  at 
the  Palmer  homestead.  The  Deacon's  wife  bestirred  her 
self  with  her  characteristic  hospitality  to  furnish  food  and 
shelter  for  all  who  sought  it  under  her  roof  that  day. 

"  It's  well  we've  got  a  full  larder  to  share  with  'em, 
Grace,"  she  whispered  to  her  daughter,  as  they  set  the 
tables ;  for  the  group  of  homeless,  panic-stricken  women 
increased  constantly,  and  each  had  some  pitiful  tale  to  sob 
into  Grace's  ear  or  her  mother's,  and  each  had  saved  some 
precious  relic  which  was  confided  to  her  care. 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  297 

"  Grace,"  said  one  pale,  broken-hearted  looking  woman, 
slipping  a  small  package  into  the  girl's  hand,  "  them's  my 
little  Tommy's  red  morocco  shoes — the  only  pair  that  ever 
went  on  to  his  blessed  little  feet,  and  he  was  so  proud  on 
'em.  Last  night  he  breathed  his  last  in  my  arms,  and  his 
father  had  to  hurry  him  off  in  a  box  to  the  -graveyard  and 
bury  him  without  a  parson  or  a  prayer ;  but  I  was  deter 
mined  if  the  British  got  everything  else  I  own  in  the  world, 
they  shouldn't  have  my  little  Tommy's  red  morocco  shoes  !" 

"  They  shan't,  either,  without  they  have  my  life  with 
them  !"  and  Grace  sobbed  with  the  poor  mother. 

"  Grace,"  said  a  very  old  woman,  who  had  tottered  out 
of  the  town  leaning  on  her  staff  and  the  arm  of  a  kind 
neighbor,  "  you  don't  s'pose  them  ere  Britishers  '11  burn  up 
the  house  where  Jacob  and  I  lived  so  many  years  ?" 

"I  hope  not,  Aunty  Platt.  Do  rest  yourself  in  this 
arm-chair." 

The  old  woman  clasped  her  shrivelled  hand  on  her  staff 
with  the  bewildered,  appealing  look  of  a  little  child : 

"  Grace,"  she  said,  "  I  couldn't  get  along  without  the 
chimbly  corner  to  sit  in.  There's  no  other  place  in  the 
whole  world  that  seems  home  to  me.  It's  my  corner, 
Grace,  and  my  old  oak-chair  stands  there  that  Jacob  made 
me  the  second  year  we  was  married.  You  don't  have  any 
fears  that  they'll  burn  up  my  chimbly  corner,  do  you  ?" 

"  I  hope  not,"  answered  Grace,  with  a  sinking  of  heart 
for  the  old  woman's  sake.  "Do  take  a  glass  of  mother's 
spiced  bitters,  Aunty  Platt.  They'll  set  you  up  after  your 
]ong  walk,"  and  she  pressed  the  glass  into  the  old  woman's 
shaking  hands. 

"Grace,"  called  a  third — a  pale,  grief -stricken  woman, 
with  an  infan^on  her  knee  and  three  little  children  standing 

13* 


298  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

about  her — "  you  don't  think  they'll  burn  up  my  house  in 
Widows'  Eow,  do  you?  It's  all  I've  got  in  the  world 
to  shelter  me  and  my  fatherless  little  children.  I  thought 
when  word  came  that  Jason  was  shot  in  the  battle  of 
Camden,  that  I  wouldn't  ask  to  live  another  hour  if  'twasn't 
for  my  children ;  but  what  are  they  going  to  do  now,  poor 
little  fatherless  things,  if  the  house  is  burnt  down  and 
they  no  father  to  care  for  'em  and  no  home  to  go  to !" 

And  Grace  looked  from  the  mother  to  the  little  be 
wildered  faces  clustered  about  her. 

"  You  and  the  children  shall  have  a  home  with  us,  if  the 
British  burn  yours,"  she  said,  out  of  the  fulness  of  her 
heart. 

And  so  the  girl  went,  an  angel  of  comfort  from  one 
stricken  group  to  another,  listening  to  the  sad  stories  that 
were  poured  in  her  ear  on  every  side,  offering  what  comfort 
of  cheer  or  sympathy  she  could,  and  losing  all  sense  of  her 
own  sorrows  in  those  of  others.  As  for  Benny,  his  sym 
pathies  were  aroused  into  large  activity  by  all  he  saw  and 
heard.  He  made  himself  very  useful  to  his  mother  and 
sister  in  their  benevolent  work  that  morning,  and  went 
everywhere,  his  merry  face  elongated  with  an  expression 
of  grave  interest,  although  on  the  whole  it  must  be  ad 
mitted  that  he  somewhat  enjoyed  the  excitement. 

At  last,  unable  to  contain  himself  any  longer,  he 
mounted  a  chair,  rubbed  his  hands,  and  thus  delivered 
himself: 

"  Look  here,  you  folks,  don't  be  scared  if  the  Britishers 
do  burn  down  your  houses.  You  can  all  stay  here  just  as 
well  as  not,  and  father  '11  build  on  some  new  additions,  and 
we  can  live  together!" 

A  faint  smile  flitted  over  many  a  trouble^!  face  at  this 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR   FATHERS.  299 

generous  offer  of  Benny's,  and  more  tban  one  voice 
said  : 

"  lie's  a  true  chip  of  the  old  block." 

But  the  anxiety  of  every  one,  whether  general  or  per 
sonal,  converged  of  course  to  one  centre,  and  that  was 
the  progress  of  the  British  troops  towards  the  town.  There 
was  a  height  covered  with  young  oaks  back  of  the  Deacon's 
house  from  which  the  passage  of  the  enemy  could  be 
watched  with  perfect  security. 

Arnold's  progress  to  the  town  of  New  London  was  only 
slightly  disputed.  The  militia,  who  manned  an  advance 
battery  and  Fort  Trumbull,  retreated  before  the  overwhelm 
ing  superiority  of  the  enemy  to  Fort  Griswold,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Thames,  and  Arnold  advanced  and  took 
possession  of  the  town.  He  drew  rein  on  a  height  which 
commanded  it,  and  surveyed  the  scene  before  him.  One 
wonders  what  feelings  must  have  stirred  the  heart  of  the 
traitor  at  that  moment!  Every  object  that  his  glance 
touched  must  have  been  familiar  to  his  eyes,  for  only  a  few 
miles  to  the  north  lay  his  birthplace.  Did  no  memory  of 
his  guileless  childhood  oversweep  his  soul  at  that  hour — 
no  thought  of  the  gentle  mother  who  led  him  every  Sabbath 
morning  to  the  old  church — no  vision  of  the  pleasant  sum 
mer  days  when  he  played  in  the  green  pastures  with  his 
sister  Hannah — did  no  thought  of  what  he  was  then,  of  the 
deed  he  had  come  to  do  now,  accursed  of  God  and  man, 
sting  through  his  darkened  soul,  as  he  drew  bridle  on  the 
height  which  overlooked  New  London,  sleeping  in  the 
peaceful  autumn  sunshine?  If  any  such  memories  over- 
swept  the  soul  of  Benedict  Arnold  in  that  hour,  they  only 
stung  it  into  fiercer  desperation  and  deadlier  vengeance. 
He  waved  his  sword.  "Soldiers,  do  your  duty!"  was  his 


300  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

infamous  order  to  his  troops ;  and  then  they  set  to  their 
foul  work  of  devastation  and  destruction.* 

"We  all  know  what  was.  done  to  New  London  on  that 
day.  The  shipping  and  the  public  buildings  were  first 
fired,  and  then  the  inhabitants  watched  from,  a  short  dis 
tance  the  red  flames  as  they  rose  up  and  wrapt  their  home 
steads  one  after  another.  They  wondered  that  tbe  sun 
could  shine  and  the  pleasant  sky  look  down  calmly  on 
that  scene  of  horror. 

"  Oh,  righteous  Judge,  come  and  rend  the  heavens ;  come 
to  the  rescue  of  Thy  people !"  prayed  Grace  Palmer,  as 
she  leaned  herself  heavily  a  moment  against  the  side  of 
the  house,  for  she  had  been  witnessing  on  the  height  the 
devouring  flames,  as  home  after  home  of  those  around  her 
went  down  in  their  lurid  glare,  until  her  soul  had  sickened 
at  the  sight,  and,  unable  to  endure  it,  she  sought  the  house. 
But  the  sun  shone  on,  the  blue  sky  smiled  calmly  over  that 
day's  work,  and  the  destruction  went  on,  in  the  pleasant 
old  town  that  sat  by  the  Thames.  And  fearful  as  were 
the  scenes  we  have  related,  others  of  a  far  more  terrible 
character  were  occurring  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  river. 

The  history  of  that  sixteenth  of  September  was  written 
at  New  London  in  fire;  it  was  written  at  Fort  Griswold  in 
blood ! 

*  For  the  sake  of  justice  the  writer  subjoins  the  following . 

"  It  ought  to  be  stated  as  a  general  fact,  that  Arnold's  orders  appear  to 
have  been  given  with  some  reference  to  humanity  and  the  laws  of  civilized 
warfare.  Private  houses  were  to  be  spared,  unless  in  some  few  instances 
•where  the  owners  were  particularly  obnoxious.  Yet  no  one  can  bo  certain 
that  an  excited  soldiery  will  not  transcend  their  orders,  and  scenes  of  distress 
must  be  expected  in  the  train  of  reckless  invasion." — Miss  Caulkins's  History 
of  New  London. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  301 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

WE  must  draw  briefly,  O  reader,  and  drop  quickly  for 
your  sake  and  ours  the  curtain  which  hangs  before  that 
awful  tragedy.  The  very  heart-blood  curdles  to  read  the 
story  as  history  with  her  calm  voice  relates  it,  and  for  the 
rest,  they  alike  who  wrought  and  they  who  suffered  that 
woe  are  long  since  with  God. 

There  were  at  the  time  but  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
men  in  the  newly  built  fort,  and  two-thirds  of  these  had 
hastened  with  whatever  arms  lay  at  hand  to  reinforce  the 
slender  garrison.  The  hearts  of  brave  men  beat,  however, 
under  those  coarse  garments,  and  when  the  British  officer 
sent  an  insolent  demand  for  absolute  surrender,  it  was  twice 
sternly  rejected.  Then  the  work  of  destruction  com 
menced.  The  little  band  in  the  fort  fought  against  the 
overwhelming  numbers  of  the  enemy,  as  brave  men  will 
for  all  they  hold  dear.  Colonel  Eyre,  who  commanded 
the  British  forces,  was  mortally  wounded,  and  Major 
Montgomery,  who  succeeded  him,  thrust  through  with  a 
spear  ;  but  at  last  the  little  garrison  was  overcome,  the  fort 
was  carried  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  Then  the  slaugh 
ter  commenced — a  slaughter  in  which  it  seemed  that  the 
foe  was  suddenly  turned  into  a  company  of  fiends. 

Colonel  Ledyard,  the  brave  commander  of  the  fort,  who 
had  said  that  very  morning,  as  he  stepped  into  the  boat 
which  was  to  convey  him  across  the  Thames:  "If  I  must 


302  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

this  day  lose  life  or  honor,  you  who  know  me  can  tell 
which  it  will  be,"  ordered  his  men  to  lay  down  their  arms. 
He  surrendered  his  own  sword  only  to  have  it  thrust 
through  his  body !  Everywhere  the  helpless  little  band 
was  hunted  and  slaughtered  as  men  would  only  slaughter 
wild  beasts.  They  lifted  up  their  hands  and  cried  in  vain 
for  mercy  of  their  foes.  They  were  gashed  through  and 
through,  bayoneted  over  and  over,  pursued,  ferreted  out 
from  every  spot  where  they  had  sought  shelter  only  to  be 
slaughtered.  The  history  of  civilized  warfare  cannot  fur 
nish  a  massacre  perpetrated  with  more  diabolical  fury  than 
that  which  occurred  at  Fort  Griswold.  Eighty -four  of  the 
little  band  of  brave  men  who  had  assembled  in  the 
morning  for  the  defence  of  the  fort  at  Groton  were  slain; 
the  wounded  lay  all  about  in  the  hot  afternoon  sun,  with 
none  to  offer  them  so  much  as  a  draught  of  cold  water. 
But  at  last  that  long  day  of  horrors  drew  to  its  close.  The 
smoke  rose  slowly  from  the  blackened  hearths  where  the 
pleasant  homesteads  had  stood  that  morning;  the  militia 
at  last  gathered  together  in  such  force  from  the  neighboring 
towns  as  to  render  them  formidable,  and  Benedict  Arnold 
looked  on  and  gave  the  order  to  retire. 

The  ghastly  corpses  at  Fort  Griswold  were  left  where 
they  had  fallen  ;  the  wounded  men  were  hastily  packed  one 
on  top  of  another  in  a  heavy  ammunition  wagon,  and 
twenty  of  the  enemy  undertook  to  drag  it  down  the  steep 
ridge  on  the  summit  of  which  stood  Fort  Griswold.  The 
weight  was  so  great,  however,  that  the  men  abandoned  it, 
leaving  the  wagon  to  descend  of  itself.  The  sides  of  the 
hill  were  sprinkled  with  rocks,  stumps,  and  bushes.  The 
wagon,  left  to  its  own  impetus,  proceeded  with  accelerated 
velocity,  and  at  length  struck  suddenly  against  an  old 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  303 

apple-tree,  recoiled  and  swayed  round,  thus  enhancing  the 
agony  of  the  mangled  men  inside,  until  their  cries  swept 
across  the  Thames  and  were  heard  amid  the  crackling 
of  the  flames  and  the  confusion  and  distraction  that  reigned 
there.  Several  of  the  men  were  thrown  upon  the  ground, 
several  were  killed  outright.  The  sufferers  were  hastily 
conveyed  into  a  house  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Benedict 
Arnold  left  orders  to  fire  the  fort,  and  then  taking  what 
prisoners  they  could  with  tllem,  the  enemy  set  sail  from  the 
shores  they  had  ravaged. 

Deacon  Palmer  hurried  home  to  relieve  the  apprehen 
sions  of  his  family  at  nightfall,  and  carry  with  him  the 
joyful  tidings  of  the  departure  of  the  enemy. 

"Oh,  father,  have  you  been  spared!"  broke  out  Mrs. 
Palmer,  as  she  saw  the  form  which  had  never  left  her 
thoughts  for  a  moment  that  day  entering  the  door. 

The  Deacon  set  down  his  musket. 

"Yes,  Patience,  the  Lord's  presarved  me,  and  seen  fit, 
I'm  afeared,  to  take  many  lives  of  more  account  than  mine. 
"We've  had  an  awful  day,  and  I  expect  we  don't  know  the 
worst  on't  yet,  for  there's  been  hot  fitin'  at  Fort  Griswold, 
but  the  enemy's  left  our  shores." 

There  was  a  flash  of  joy  on  the  pale  faces  of  the  women 
that  had  huddled  round  the  Deacon  ;  and  as  the  old  man 
looked  from  one  to  another,  and  saw  many  who  the  next 
morning  would  find  their  homes  a  blackened  heap  of  cin 
ders,  his  heart  gave  way,  and  he  bowed  down  his  head  and 
wept. 

"  Has  there  been  much  fighting  to-day,  father  ?"  asked 
Grace,  when  the, old  man  lifted  his  head  once  more. 

"  Not  much  on  our  side  the  river.  The  militia  was 
ready  enough  to  go  into  the  battle,  but  they  wanted  a  fair 


304:  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS. 

fight  in  an  open  field,  and  not  to  give  the  enemy  the  privi 
lege  of  shootin'  'em  to  death  cooped  up  in  stone  walls, 
where  resistance  would  be  useless." 

At  that  moment  the  door  was  thrust  wide  open  again, 
and  Mrs.  Trueman  and  Lucy  hurriedly  entered  the  room. 
The  former  addressed  herself  in  a  rapid,  agitated  way  to 
the  Deacon,  seeming  hardly  conscious  of  the  presence  of 
the  others. 

"  It's  all  Lucy's  doin's  that  'I  stopped  in  here  to  see  if 
anybody's  goin'  over  to  the  fort,  though  I  don't  need  com 
pany,  and  it's  nonsense  to  talk  about  it  now." 

"  No,  it  isn't,  mother,"  put  up  Lucy's  protesting  voice. 
"  I  shall  go  with  you  unless  you  find  somebody  else  to  do 
it." 

"  What  takes  you  over  to  the  fort  to-night,  Mrs.  True 
man  ?"  asked  the  Deacon,  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"  Because  my  boy's  there.  He  started  off  early  this 
morning,  and  I  must  know  whether  he's  dead  or  alive  afore 
I  can  ever  sleep  again." 

It  was  evident  there  was  no  use  in  attempting  to  oppose 
Mrs.  Trueman.  Lucy  had  been  convinced  of  this,  and 
leaving  the  tavern  full  of  women  and  children,  who  had 
crowded  there  for  shelter,  she  had  accompanied  her  mother 
as  far  as  the  Deacon's,  resolved  that,  much  as  she  was 
needed  at  home  at  this  juncture,  she  would  not  suffer  Mrs. 
Trueman  to  visit  the  fort  alone. 

"It  isn't  safe  for  mother,"  said  Lucy,  in  a  tone  whose 
decision  reflected  her  parent's.  "  I  shall  keep  close  to  her 
side  unless  there  is  some  man  here  to  take  charge  of  her." 

There  was  no  one  to  accompany  Mrs.  T^rueman  but  the 
Deacon,  and  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of  the  day,  and  the 
household  of  helpless  women  which  needed  his  care,  ren- 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR   FATHERS.  305 

dered  his  departure  almost  impossible.  Mrs.  Trueman  lis 
tened  impatiently  to  her  daughter's  expostulations,  and  was 
making  up  her  mind  to  end  them  by  leaving  the  house, 
when  a  neighbor  suddenly  appeared  at  the  door,  to  whom 
the  matter  was  easily  explained.  The  man  offered  to 
accompany  Mrs.  Trueman  to  Groton,  thus  ending  all  dis 
cussion. 

Mrs.  Trueman  had  just  left  the  door  when  a  light  hand 
touched  the  Deacon's  arm — a  hand  which  he  knew  had  a 
silent  entreaty  in  it. 

"  What  is  it,  daughter  ?" 

"  I  think  I  may  be  of  some  use  at  the  fort.  Perhaps 
there  are  wounded  men  who  need  care." 

The  Deacon  looked  up  in  his  daughter's  face  and  hesi 
tated. 

"  My  child,  you  will  be  likely  to  see  terrible  sights.  I'm 
afraid  they'll  prove  too  much  for  you." 

"  I  can  stand  it ;"  her  brave,  steadfast  face  was  witness 
for  her.  "  Oh,  father,  if  anybody  that  we  knew  or  loved 
was  lying  there !" 

He  knew  then  that  she  was  thinking  of  Edward  and 
Robert. 

"  I  will  not  stand  in  your  way,  my  child,"  said  the  old 
man,  and  Grace  hurried  away  and  came  upon  Mrs.  True- 
man  a  few  rods  from  the  gate. 

It  was  late  that  night  before  the  two  women  could  cross 
the  ferry  and  reach  the  fort.  Of  the  awful  spectacle  which 
presented  itself  to  their  eyes  history  has  kept  its  sickening 
record.  More  than  eighty  men  lay  dead  before  them — 
more  than  eighty  not  killed  in  fair  and  open  fight,  but 
foully  slaughtered  by  others  whom  the  thirst  for  blood  had 
turned  into  fiends.  There  they  lay  gashed  and  mangled, 


306  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR   FATHERS. 

and  plundered  after  they  were  dead,  so  that  many  of  them 
could  not  be  recognised. 

And  amongst  these,  with  the  torches  glaring  wildly  over 
their  white  faces,  the  women  of  Groton  searched  for  their 
dead  ;  that  day's  work  had  made  forty  widows.  Every  few 
moments  some  new  shriek,  breaking  above  the  general  sobs 
and  lamentations,  proclaimed  that  another  beloved  face  had 
been  recognised ;  while  amid  the  groups  was  occasionally 
one  who  seemed  utterly  stupefied  by  the  great  shock  of 
anguish,  and  looked  on  the  dead  with  wild  dry  eyes  with 
out  a  moan. 

In  one  corner  sat  a  woman  with  j&  head  pillowed  upon 
her  lap,  the  short  black  hair  daggled  in  blood,  while  she 
rocked  herself  to  and  fro  and  kissed  the  white  lips  over 
and  over. 

"  My  little  boy  called  to  me  when  I  left  home :  '  Mother, 
you'll  bring  pa  back,  won't  you  ?'  And  I  said :  '  Yes,  Tom 
my,  I'll  be  sure  to  bring  him !'  And  now  when  I  go  back 
alone  he'll  stretch  out  his  hands  and  ask  me  for  him  the 
first  thing,  and  how  can  I  tell  my  boy  that  he  is  fatherless !" 
She  said  this  lifting  up  her  pitiful  face  to  Grace,  who  had 
never  seen  her  before. 

And  a  little  way  from  this  woman  knelt  another,  with  her 
hands  clasped  over  a  mutilated  form  which  that  morning 
had  been  her  husband. 

"He  called  back  to  me  as  he  went  out  this  morning: 
'  Now,  Nancy,  keep  up  a  brave  heart,  and  expect  me  back 
"with  good  news  and  a  first-rate  appetite  for  supper.'  And 
I  waited  long  past  supper-time,  but  he  didn't  come — oh,  he 
didn't  come !"  passionately  sobbed  the  broken-hearted 
woman. 

And  this,  O  reader,  was  what  the  fathers  and  mothers 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  307 

•*-,v 
suffered  to  purchase  our  birthright  of  liberty.     Grace  took 

no  thought  for  herself  from  the  moment  she  left  her  father's 
door.  Every  other  feeling  had  been  absorbed  in  sympathy 
for  Mrs.  Trueman,  who  had  scarcely  spoken  during  the 
journey.  The  women  had  simultaneously  staggered  back 
at  the  spectacle  which  met  their  eyes  when  they  first 
entered  the  fort,  but  in  a  few  minutes  the  mother  stepped 
forward  and  made  a  sign  to  Grace.  A  man  who  stood 
near  passed  a  couple  of  torches  to  the  women,  and  they 
commenced  their  search.  Mrs.  Trueman  went  first  and 
Grace  followed.  One  by  one  they  searched — one  by  one. 
The  glare  of  the  torches  dropped  on  each  dead  face  a 
moment  and  then  passed  by,  until  it  reached  the  last ! 
Then  Mrs.  Trueman  turned  to  Grace,  and  there  came 
almost  a  smile  to  her  white  lips : 

"  Nathaniel  is  not  among  them  !"  she  said,  and  as  the 
awful  dread  lifted  itself  from  her  heart,  Grace  wondered  if 
the  mother  rejoiced  more  than  she  did. 

The  early  dawn  once  more  looked  in  at  Fort  Griswold, 
when  tidings  were  brought  that  the  wounded  men  had  been 
conveyed  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  the  fort  stood. 
Mrs.  Trueman  and  Grace  hurried  thither,  both  with 
unspoken  fear  in  their  hearts. 

Sixty  wounded  men  had  passed  that  long  night  of 
anguish  together  under  one  roof,  with  no  hand  to  relieve, 
nor  voice  save  their  own  groans,  to  soothe  their  sufferings. 
The  men  lay  as  they  had  been  carelessly  tossed  in  here  by 
the  enemy  after  being  plundered. 

In  one  of  the  rooms,  to  the  right,  lay  a  little  apart  from 
the  others  the  slender  figure  of  a  young  man  ;  the  face  was 
turned  towards  the  east,  whence  the  light  would  be  sure  to 
come.  It  was  a  face  that,  once  seeing,  you  would  never  have 


308  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

forgotten,  but  would  have  turned  back  to  look  at  it  again 
and  again  amongst  all  those  faces.  A  smile  of  singular,  I 
had  almost  said  awful  sweetness,  lingered  on  the  still  lips 
and  seemed  to  shed  its  peace  over  all  the  thin,  beautiful 
face.  The  long  brown  hair  clustered  thick  about  it.  There 
was  no  trace  of  violence  on  the  features,  only  a  deep 
wound  near  the  breast ;  and  at  midnight  out  of  that 
wound  had  gone  peacefully  the  life  of  Nathaniel  Trueman ! 
His  mother  and  Grace  entered  the  room  together.  Their 
eyes  fell  upon  the  face  turned  smilingly  to  the  east.  It 
needed  no  second  glance  to  tell  that  story,  which  sooner  or 
later  is  all  that  can  be  told  of  any  of  us. 

"  He  is  dead !"  said  under  her  breath  a  woman  who  had 
followed  the  two. 

"  Sh — sh — ."  Mrs.  Trueman  turned  round  and  smiled  at 
the  woman,  a  smile  which  made  Grace  shut  her  eyes  when 
she  saw  it.  "  You'll  wake  my  boy,"  she  said  ;  "he  isn't 
dead,  he's  only  gone  to  sleep  !" 

That  first  shock  had  been  too  much  for  the  poor  mother  ! 
She  sat  down  on  the  floor ;  she  smoothed  the  brown  hair 
softly  away  from  the  cold  cheeks  with  just  the  look  of  a 
mother  watching  over  her  sleeping  infant. 

"  My  pretty  boy !"  she  murmured,  "  how  sweet  he 
smiles;  he  al'ays  had  jest  that  trick  of  smilin'  in  his  sleep! 
How  I've  sat  by  his  cradle  and  watched  it  for  the  hour 
together,  until  he  looked  so  beautiful  I'd  grow  almost  afraid 
he'd  take  wings  suddenly  and  fly  away.  He  looks  as  if  he 
might  now;  don't  he,  Grace?" 

There  came  no  answer,  only  a  low  sob.  Mrs.  Trueman 
looked  up,  and  seeing  Grace's  tears  she  moved  uneasily : 

"  Don't  cry,  Gracie,"  she  said ;  "  my  boy  isn't  dead  as 
they  called  him.  Don't  you  see  he's  only  gone  to  sleep !" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  309 

"  Mrs.  Trueman,"  said  Grace,  and  her  tears  were  still, 
" Nathaniel  sleeps  in  God" 

The  truth  seemed  to  flash  upon  Mrs.  Trueman's  mind. 
She  drew  down  her  cheek  to  Nathaniel's,  put  her  arms 
about  him : 

"  Oh,  my  boy,"  she  murmured,  "  won't  you  let  your 
mother  come  and  sleep  with  you  ?" 

A  little  later,  when  they  went  to  remove  the  two,  they 
found  the  mother  lying  unconscious,  with  her  arms  wrapped 
tight  about  her  dead  son. 


310  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

NEARLY  seven  weeks  later,  Grace  Palmer,  wiping  the 
breakfast  dishes  one  morning,  paused  a  moment,  threw 
open  the  kitchen  window,  and  looked  out.  It  was  a  fine 
morning  in  the  late  October,  with  a  keen  sharp  air  which 
had  a  touch  of  the  frost  in  it.  She  drank  in  the  pungent 
odor  of  pine  and  sweet  fern,  with  a  pleasant  savor  from  the 
sea.  She  saw  how  the  maples  had  burned  and  the  chestnuts 
paled  when  the  frost  walked  in  the  night  among  them,  and 
the  golden-rod  flamed  by  the  farm  fences. 

The  girl's  thoughts  went  back  as  she  gazed  over  the  last 
seven  weeks.  They  had  been  very  busy  ones  for  the 
family  of  Deacon  Palmer.  The  friends  who  had  found 
hospitable  cheer  under  their  roof,  on  that  awful  sixth  of 
September,  had  mostly  remained  with  them  until  they 
could  return  to  their  friends. 

Their  numbers  had  contracted  gradually,  until  the  only 
one  who  remained  now  was  the  old  woman  who  had 
evinced  so  much  anxiety  for  the  safety  of  her  "  chimbly 
corner ;"  but  this  had  not  escaped  the  general  conflagra 
tion;  so  the  Deacon  had  generously  offered  her  his,  and 
the  old  woman  had  settled  herself  there  in  the  placid  con 
tentment  of  second  childhood. 

"  Grace,"  said  a  low,  sad  voice  at  the  girl's  shoulder. 
She  turned  quickly,  to  meet  the  'face  of  Lucy  Trueman. 
She  had  come  softly  round  by  the  side-door,  and  the  girl 
had  not  been  in  the  house  since  t/iat  night. 


BATTTE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  311 

"  Oh,  Lucy,  I  am  glad  to  see  you."  All  Grace  felt  at 
the  moment  was  not  in  her  words,  but  it  was  in  her 
face. 

"  The  doctor  said  I  mustn't  stay  in  the  house  another 
day,"  said  the  girl,  "without  taking  the  air;  so  I  thought 
I'd  step  in  a  minute,  Grace." 

She  was  not  the  Lucy  Trueman  of  old,  with  her  arch, 
pretty  way  sand  breaks  of  laughter  that  lighted  your 
heart.  The  spring  was  gone  out  of  her  voice  and  step, 
and  the  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow  had  fallen  on  the  bright 
face. 

In  a  grief  such  as  Lucy's  had  been,  one  always  feels  the 
weakness  and  limitation  of  words.  Grace  did  not  touch  it 
with  these  first,  but  she  kissed  Lucy,  and  held  her  hand  in 
a  tender  caressing  which  had  its  language. 

"  I  was  thinking  just  that  yesterday,  that  you'd  certainly 
get  sick  if  you  kept  in  the  house  so  close,  and  was  going 
over  this  afternoon  to  force  you  into  a  walk  with  me." 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Palmer  came  in  with  an  apronful 
of  late  squashes  she  had  just  gathered. 

"  Well,  Lucy,  I  declare  I'm  beat !"  was  her  homely  wel 
come  ;  but  her  voice  made  it  a  very  cordial  one,  and  she 
took  off  her  sun-bonnet  and  emptied  the  squashes  on  the 
table. 

"  How  is  your  mother,  Lucy  ?"  sitting  down  close  by 
the  girl. 

"  There  don't  seem  to  be  much  change,  Mrs.  Palmer. 
She  hasn't  set  up  for  the  last  two  days  only  to  have  h(jr 
bed  made,  and  don't  seem  to  take  any  interest  in  the  world. 
I  can't  rouse  her  only  to  talk  about — you  know." 

The  tears  glistened  in  the  eyes  of  both  listeners. 

"  I  should  have  been  over  yesterday  afternoon  if  the 


312  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

shower  hadn't  come  up  jist  as  I  got  through  with  cheese- 
pressin'.  I'm  still  in  hopes  she'll  be  more  reconciled." 

"I've  almost  given  up  hope,"  continued  Lucy,  wiping 
the  great  tears  from  her  cheeks ;  "  but  Parson  Willetts  says 
he  hasn't.  He  comes  to  see  mother  every  day,  and  you 
ought  to  hear  his  prayers  and  how  he  talks.  It  just  lifts 
one  right  up  from  this  world.  He  told  mother  he  didn't 
believe  that  if  Nathaniel  had  been  his  own  son  he  could 
have  felt  his  death  more.  You  know  he  studied  with  the 
Parson  for  the  last  three  years,  and  Nathaniel  was  so  much 
attached  to  him." 

"  Can't  he  say  something  to  comfort  your  mother,  Lucy  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Palmer. 

"  Oh,  you'd  think  he  must  if  you  were  to  hear  him  talk. 
He  said  to  her  yesterday  that  she  had  cause  for  thankful 
ness  above  most  mothers ;  that  we  could  none  of  us  tell 
what  sorrow  or  darkness  might  have  been  Nathaniel's  por 
tion  if  he  had  lived ;  but  now  we  were  certain  he  had  got 
beyond  the  reach  of  any  possible  pain  or  harm  ;  and  that, 
good  and  happy  as  he  was  on  earth,  he  was  better  and 
happier  now. 

"  '  Mrs.  Trueman,'  said  he,  '  it's  a  great  thing  to  have 
such  a  noble,  beautiful  youth  as  Nathaniel  to  give  back  to 
God  who  first  gave  him  to  you.  "When  I  think  of  the 
clear  evidence  he  left  of  his  beautiful  Christian  life,  crowned 
by  his  noble  death,  I  feel  as  if  I  could  come  to  you  and 
say,  as  though  I  spoke  to  you  in  God's  stead :  "  Be  com 
forted,  for  the  child  is  not  dead  but  liveth."  And  I  know, 
too,  that  if  Nathaniel  stood  here  in  my  place  he'd  say  to 
you:  "  Don't  shed  another  tear;  don't  mourn  for  me  another 
hour,  mother.  It's  well  with  your  boy ;  better  even  than 
all  your  love  could  make  it."  And,  Mrs.  Trueman,  you 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  313 

know,  too,  that  much  as  you  loved  Nathaniel,  he's  gone 
where  he's  loved  deeper  and  better  than  he  is  even  in  your 
heart.' 

"  Mother  broke  right  out  into  a  sob  then,  and  it's  the 
first  tear  she's  shed  since  that  dreadful  day.  '  I  know  it, 
Parson  Willetts,'  she  said,  '  but  oh,  my  poor  heart  aches  and 
cries  for  my  boy,  and  I  can't  give  him  up.' 

"  '  You  haven't  got  to  give  him  up.  God  is  going  to  give 
you  back  our  dear  Nathaniel  in  a  little  while,  and  you'll 
have  him  for  ever.  Think  of  what  that  means !'  ' 

Lucy  was  crying  so  that  she  could  hardly  get  through 
with  the  Parson's  speech,  and  both  her  auditors  kept  her 
company. 

"  I  think  it  sank  deep  into  mother's  heart,"  continued 
Lucy,  after  a  little  silence ;  "  I've  sort  of  felt  she  was  pon 
dering  on  what  the  Parson  said,  although  there  hasn't 
seemed  any  outward  change.  And  he  said,  too,  that  Na 
thaniel  would  be  growing  in  this  brief  separation  in  all  the 
beautiful  and  lovely  qualities  which  drew  our  hearts  close 
to  him  on  earth,  and  that  he  would  want  those  he  loved  to 
grow,  too,  and  that  sinking  under  any  grief  was  not  the 
way  to  do  this." 

"  Oh,  that  must  have  touched  the  heart  of  your  mother. 
You  may  depend,  Lucy,  it  '11  do  her  good,  whether  she 
seems  to  mind  it  now  or  not,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  betwixt 
her  tears. 

And  then  they  passed  another  half  hour  talking  over  all 
that  was  lovely  in  the  life  of  Nathaniel  Trueman,  and 
telling  anecdotes  of  him  which  they  all  hoarded  like  pre 
cious  treasures  in  their  memory.  And  then  Lucy  rose 
hastily,  saying  that  her  mother  would  miss  her  if  she  was 
gone  longer. 

14 


314  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

Mrs.  Palmer  sent  some  particularly  tempting  pears,  and 
a  small  china  tureen  of  very  dainty  broth  which  she  had 
prepared  for  the  invalid  the  day  before,  and  Lucy  departed, 
feeling  that  her  visit  had  done  her  good. 

A  minute  later  the  door  was  burst  wide  open,  and  Dea 
con  Palmer  came  into  the  room,  his  face  full  of  some  joy 
ous  excitement  that  seemed  almost  more  than  he  could  con 
tain  : 

"Mother!     Grace!     Cornwallis  is  taken!"  he  cried. 

Grace  bounded  from  her  chair  to  his  side. 

"Oh,  father,  is  it  true?"     she  cried,  white  for  joy. 

"  True  as  the  Gospel,  my  child.  The  news  come  straight. 
The  Lord  has  risen  for  the  deliverance  of  his  people.  The 
war  has  had  its  death-blow." 

Even  while  he  spoke  the  bells  struck  up  the  glad  tid 
ings  ;  they  heard  the  guns  firing  for  the  joy  of  the  victory. 
That  swift,  silent  march  of  Washington  had  done  its  work — 
a  work  from  which  not  even  the  ravaged  coast  of  Connec 
ticut  had  diverted  him.  The  final  blow  had  been  struck. 

"  Oh,  my  beautiful,  precious,  free  country !"  exclaimed 
Grace  betwixt  her  jets  of  happy  tears. 

"  Thank  God,  daughter,  that  you  live  to  speak  those 
words ;  that  we  live  to  see  this  hour,  the  happiest  of  my 
life,"  said  her  father. 

The  next  moment  Grace  bounded  from  the  house  to  the 
front  gate : 

"Lucy,  Lucy  Trueman,  come  back  here!"  she  shouted 
to  her  friend,  who  was  not  quite  out  of  sight. 

Arid  Lucy  came  back  in  mute  wonder  at  the  changed 
face  and  tones  of  Grace.  She  was  seized  by  the  arm  and 
dragged  unceremoniously  into  the  house. 

"  Tell  her  the  news,  father." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  315 

And  hearing  it,  the  face  of  Lucy  Trueman  sprang  out 
of  shadow  again. 

"  Even  mother  will  be  glad  now  !"  she  said,  a  little  while 
later,  as  she  started  for  home  the  second  time. 

"  And  tell  her  that  Nathaniel  helped  to  buy  this  day  for 
us,"  added  Deacon  Palmer. 

Of  the  day  and  the  night  that  followed,  with  its  ringing 
of  bells,  its  blazing  of  bonfires  on  a  thousand  hills,  who 
shall  write  fitly ! 

After  seven  years,  the  people  held  jubilee  through  all  the 
land — a  free,  people,  a  people  who  had  bought  with  their 
best  blood  the  great  price  of  liberty. 

And  amid  all  the  joy  for  her  redeemed  country  which 
Grace  felt  at  that  time,  and  despite  the  patriotism  which 
had  proved  itself  with  her  so  disinterested  and  pure,  feel 
ings  of  a  personal  character  gave  a  deeper  coloring  to  her 
gladness — feelings  that  she  hid  in  her  own  heart  until  very 
late  that  night,  when  the  tide  of  jubilant  friends  and  neigh 
bors  had  flowed  out  of  the  front  door,  and  Grace  found 
herself  alone  a  moment  with  her  father.  She  went  up  to 
him,  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  whispered  softly : 

"  Edward  will  be  coming  home  before  a  great  while, 
father?" 

"  I  think  he  will.  God  has  been  very  good  to  us,  my 
little  daughter."  And  he  kissed  her. 

"  God  has  been  very  good  to  us !"  sang  the  heart  of  Grace 
Palmer,  as  she  went  up  stairs  to  her  room  that  night. 


316  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

"  MOTHER,  mother,  the  rose-bud  has  budded !" 

There  was  a  thrill  of  joy  in  the  voice  which  said  this 
just  outside  of  the  kitchen  window  on  the  first  day  of 
May,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  seventeen  hundred  and 
eighty-two.  Mrs.  Palmer  paused  a  moment  and  looked 
up  from  the  large  earthen  bowl  of  milk  which  she  was 
skilfully  relieving  of  its  upper  stratum  of  cream.  She  saw 
Grace  standing  there  in  her  simple  morning  gown  of 
homespun  linen,  with  a  small  hammer  in  one  hand  and 
some  twine  in  the  other.  She  looked  pretty,  even  to  her 
mother's  unartistic  eyes,  with  the  shadows  of  the  tender 
green  leaves  thrown  on  her  face ;  and  the  smile  in  her  eyes 
repeated  the  thrill  in  her  voice. 

"  I'm  glad  on't  to  hear  about  the  buds;  but  I'm  a  great 
deal  gladder  to  see  you  look  so  happy  over  it,"  was  the 
mother's  characteristic  rejoinder. 

And  Grace  looked  what  she  felt  that  morning.  The 
winter  was  ended.  The  great  white  embroideries  of  snow, 
which  seemed  to  lie  on  her  soul  as  they  had  lain  cold  and 
heavy  on  the  earth,  were  gone  at  length.  There  was  now 
no  last  faint  etching  of  ice  by  the  fences  or  on  the  bleak 
sides  of  the  hills.  The  singing  of  birds  filled  the  air ;  the 
fresh,  sweet  smell  of  the  sprouting  grass  was  finer  than  the 
breath  of  spices,  and  the  soft  spring  sunshine  was  a  praise 
and  joy  in  the  whole  earth. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  317 

The  winter  had  brought  a  bitter  disappointment  to  Grace, 
for  she  had  confidently  expected  to  see  Edward  Dudley 
before  its  close.  It  was  May  now,  and  he  had  not  come 
yet. 

The  Commander-in-Chief  had  been  extremely  cautious  in 
granting  his  officers  furloughs  during  the  winter  which 
followed  the  surrender  of  Yorktown.  He  dreaded  any 
weakening  of  his  forces,  any  confidence  based  on  the  late 
victory,  which  might  lull  into  false  security  the  hearts  of 
his  countrymen.  Not  until  he  was  absolutely  assured  that 
the  British  Parliament  were  'resolved  on  a  cessation  of 
hostilities,  would  Washington  diminish  his  army  or  relax 
his  efforts  for  another  campaign. 

So  through  the  long,  slow  winter  the  heart  of  Grace 
Palmer  had  waited  and  ached,  as  many  another  of  her 
countrywomen  did  through  the  winter  which  followed  the 
battle  of  Yorktown.  But  a  little  while  before,  Colonel 
Dudley  had  written : — 

"  When  you  hear  the  first  birds  of  May,  look  out  for 
my  coming,  Grace.  I  cannot  tell  just  when  it  will  be ;  but 
you  may  depend  upon  me." 

And  after  that  Grace  waited  for  the  singing  birds,  but 
in  her  heart  the  song  was  sweeter  than  theirs.  It  overran 
her  lips  that  morning,  as  she  fastened  the  twine  and  wound 
the  tender  green  branches,  in  old  psalm-tunes  and  hymns  of 
Watts,  and  wreathed  itself  in  and  out  of  sweet  homely  old 
household  melodies,  and  then  suddenly  fell  down  into  a 
silence  that  went  where  song  could  not  reach. 

And  as  the  girl  stood  there,  with  the  sunbeams  spilling 
themselves  in  golden  wine  on  her  head,  a  stranger  rode 
suddenly  out  of  the  lane  on  the  right  of  the  house  and 
drew  up  his  horse  in  the  road.  He  saw  Grace  Palmer  at 


318  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

her  work,  with  the  white  handkerchief  she  had  tied  around 
her  head  fallen  down  on  her  neck,  dragging  a  stray  lock 
with  it. 

One  look  drank  her  in — hair,  face,  figure ;  and  then  the 
stranger  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  hurried  to  the  front 
gate. 

Grace  did  not  start  until  she  heard  the  click  of  the  latch  ; 
then  she  turned  suddenly  towards  the  front  gate.  There 
was  the  first  look  of  blank  surprise,  then  her  heart  sprang 
and  carried  away  all  the  color  from  her  lips  and  cheeks. 
She  moved  towards  the  steps  and  stopped  there  with  no 
power  to  get  further.  The  man  approached  her,  not 
rapidly ;  his  left  limb  was  hopelessly  crippled,  and  if  he 
had  ever  walked  that  narrow  path  with  the  free,  strong 
step  of  youthful  manhood,  he  would  never  do  so  again. 
His  cheeks  were  browned  deep  with  exposure,  and  bore  the 
traces  of  suffering  and  hardship ;  but  the  voice  which  for 
six  long  years  she  had  hungered  for,  asked,  as  the  man  put 
out  his  arms : 

"  Grace,  can  you  tell  who  it  is  that  comes  to  you 
thus?" 

"  Oh,  Edward !"  They  were  not  loud  words,  but  they 
were  solemn  witnesses  of  all  the  long  anguish  that  had 
been — of  all  the  tenderness  and  joy  that  were  now  in  the 
heart  of  Grace  Palmer. 

He  drew  her  to  him;  and  Edward  Dudley  had  never 
shaken  in  the  midst  of  the  hottest  battle-field,  where  the 
dead  were  dropping  thick  about  him,  as  he  shook  when  he 
laid  the  fair  head  of  Grace  Palmer  on  his  breast. 

Then  they  went  into  the  house  together.  Mrs.  Palmer 
had  gone  out  on  some  errand  a  little  while  before,  and 
it  was  best  that  there  were  none  to  see  them. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  319 

Of  that  day  even  Grace  Palmer  did  not  often  speak  in 
the  future  years  of  her  life. 

Neither  was  Mrs.  Palmer's  welcome,  or  the  Deacon's 
later  one,  with  many  words.  The  former's,  as  soon  as  her 
first  surprise  and  the  tearful  joy  which  followed  it  was 
over,  took  a  practical  channel,  and  she  bestirred  herself 
about  getting  a  dinner  somewhat  worthy  of  her  guest,  but 
this  time  without  so  much  as  consulting  Grace ;  and  the 
young  people  passed  the  morning  as  they  had  one  seven 
years  before,  in  the  parlor  together. 

When  the  Deacon  returned  home  that  day,  he  was 
partially  prepared  for  the  good  tidings  by  finding  the  table 
set  with  the  best  linen  and  china ;  and  for  the  rest,  Mrs. 
Palmer,  with  no  small  sacrifice  on  her  part,  refrained  from 
disclosing  any  facts,  saying  briefly : 

"If  you  want  to  find  out  anything,  jest  walk  into  the 
parlor." 

The  Deacon  followed  her  advice  with  a  mixture  of 
blank  amazement  and  curiosity  on  his  face,  and  con 
fronted  his  daughter ;  and  by  her  side  sat  Colonel  Dud- 
ley! 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  Deacon  said,  rubbing  his 
hands  briskly : 

"  I  forgot  to  bring  mothers  message  about  dinner  ;  I'm 
afraid  it'll  get  cold,  and  that's  the  one  thing  that  '11  put  her 
out." 

"  Dinner-time !"  echoed  Grace.  "  You  don't  mean  to 
say  it's  that,  father?" 

"  What  else  should  bring  me  home,  my  daughter  ?"  with 
a  shrewd  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  thought  that  it  was  only  ten  o'clock,"  exclaimed  the 
girl. 


320  BATTLE-FIELDS  OP  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  I  thought  so,  too,"  laughed  the  Colonel,  looking  at  his 
watch.  "Grace,  will  you  believe  it's  past  one?" 

"  Where  has  this  morning  gone  to?" 

"  Where  pleasaYtt  time  usually  goes,"  laughed  her  father ; 
and  the  trio  went  out  to  dinner,  hiding  with  light  words 
and  familiar  jests  the  thoughts  which  filled  all  their  hearts. 
But  those  grave  feelings  leaped  to  the  surface  with  Grace 
as  her  guest  handed  her  to  the  table. 

"Oh,  Edward!  do  you  remember  that  spring,  seven 
years  ago,  when  you  sat  down  here  to  dinner  ?" 

"  Do  I  ?  How  many  a  time  it  has  shone  down  on  me,  a 
light  along  the  years,  as  I  have  munched  my  bread  and 
beef  in  camp.  Ah,  Grace  I  there  were  times  when  I  never 
expected  to  eat  dinner  here  again !"  And  a  little  shadow 
stole  over  the  young  officer's  face  as  he  glanced  down  on 
his  crippled  limb. 

She  understood  him  and  slipped  her  soft  hand  in  his. 
There  was  no  time  for  further  reply  then,  for  the  Deacon 
bent  his  head  to  ask  a  blessing — such  a  blessing  as  had 
never  been  invoked  at  that  table  before. 

"  Are  you  quite  so  glad,  my  darling  ?"  Edward  Dudley 
asked  this  question  during  the  afternoon  as  Grace  sat  on 
the  low  stool  at  his  feet,  where  she  had  sat  that  last  day, 
and  where  Edward  Dudley  had  placed  her  for  the  sake  of 
contrasting  that  hour  with  this  one.  She  had  been  looking 
up  in  his  face  while  he  talked  to  her,  not  imagining  half 
that  her  shy,  sweet  gaze  said. 

"So  glad  for  what?"  chimed  the  silvery  voice. 

"Why,  as  glad  as  your  eyes  say  that  you  are,  because 
you  have  me  back  again  bruised  and  weather-beaten, 
broken  and  maimed  for  life?" 

Spite  of  himself,  his  voice  betrayed  to  the  girl  the  one 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  321 

sore  place  in  his  heart.  The  sweet  eyes  were  not  shy 
now.  * 

"  Oh,  Edward!  I  am  so  glad  to  have  you  back;  this 
day  and  this  hour  so  satisfies  my  life,  that  it  seems  as 
though  I  have  not  another  earthly  gift  or  blessing  to  ask 
of  God ;  that  if  He  should  send  me  one,  I  must  only 
answer :  '  I  have  enough,  and  there  is  no  room  to  receive 
it.' " 

He  bent  his  head  down  closer  to  Grace  and  almost 
whispered : 

"  Not  the  blessing  of  having  me  come  into  that  door  as  I 
went  out  of  it  six  years  ago,  Grace  ?" 

She  smiled  now — a  happy,  contented  smile,  looking  up 
steadily  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  shouldn't  care  one  whit.  Edward,  for  my  sake." 

For  a  moment  he  averted  his  head.  There  was  evidently 
something  in  his  face  that  even  her  tender  eyes  must  not 
read.  When  he  bent  it  down  again  there  was  no  shadow 
of  pain  in  it. 

"My  little  girl — my  dear  little  girl!"  repeating  the 
words  as  though  they  had  a  pleasant  sound  to  him ;  "  that 
is  almost  the  sweetest  thing  you  ever  said  to  me." 

Her  quick,  startled  look  answered  him  : 

"  Why,  Edward !  did  you  have  any  fear  tfere  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  dread.  Don't  look  pained,  my  child.  It 
was  altogether  my  fault,  my  sin.  I  never  knew,  Grace, 
that  I  had  taken  any  pride  in  my  physical  strength,  in  my 
\vell-knit  muscular  frame,  until  the  blow  came,  and  then 
for  a  while  I  rebelled  against  it.  The  thought  that  I  must 
be  a  cripple  for  life,  even  in  the  noblest  of  causes,  was  very 
hard,  and  I  could  not  brook  it,  especially  when  I  thought 
of  you.  But  the  false  pride  which  God  punished  has  gone 

14* 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

now,  and  those  last  words  of  yours  have  healed  its  pain 
for  ever."  * 

And  after  these  words  there  came,  as  was  fitting,  a 
silence. 

Grace  broke  it,  looking  up  with  a  thought  which  it  did 
not  require  any  great  sagacity  to  perceive  had  taken  a 
cross-road  from  their  last  topic. 

"  Eight  years  are  a  long  time,  Edward  ;  they  must  have 
made  some  changes  in  me." 

He  stroked  the  oval  cheeks  tenderly. 

"  I  don't  see  them,"  he  said.  "  Despite  all  the  care,  and 
watching,  and  anxiety  you  have  endured,  these  eight  years 
have  dealt  very  kindly  with  this  one  dear  little  face." 

It  was  true.  No  one  looking  at  the  unbent  lips,  at  the 
fair  cheeks  with  the  faint  flush  in  them,  at  the  brown  eyes 
with  the  look  of  their  childhood,  would  have  fancied  that 
the  life  of  Grace  Palmer  was  drawing  towards  its  twenty- 
eighth  birthday. 

«  That  first  afternoon  slipped  away  just  as  the  morning 
had  done.  There  was  so  much  for  each  to  hear  and  to  tell ; 
for  manifold  had  been  the  perils  which  Edward  Dudley  had 
escaped  by  land  and  by  sea,  on  the  deadly  battle-field,  and 
in  lonely  midnight  marches  ;  and  Grace  listened  and  shud 
dered,  and  looked  at  the  young  officer,  hardly  believing 
that  he  could  have  been  delivered  from  all  these  dangers 
and  be  sitting  once  more  at  h'er  side.  Some  cruel  memory 
suddenly  drove  a  white  terror  over  her  face. 

"What  is  it,  Grace?"  asked  the  young  Colonel,  taking 
her  hands. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  time  when  I  read  Samuel  Hitter's 
letter.  Oh,  Edward !  you  don't  know ;  it  went  down  into 
the  marrow  of  my  life !" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  323 

"  Dear  Grace !  I  would  have  done  anything  to  have 
spared  you  from  that.  But  it  wasn't  true." 

"  No,  thank  God !  it  wasn't  true  I" 

At  that  moment  Benny  put  his  face  into  the  parlor — a 
boy's  face,  round,  tanned,  with  black,  roguish  eyes. 

"  Grace !"  he  cried,  "  we've  got  up  the  flag  !" 

"  That's  in  consequence  of  your  coming,  Edward," 
laughed  the  girl.  "  It  affords  you  an  occasion  for  a 
patriotic  speech." 

"  Thank  you,  and — the  boys.  Benny,  I'll  come  out  and 
salute  the  thirteen  stars  after  a  while." 

Benny  came  up  to  his  sister,  his  wide  eyes  darting 
curious  glances  towards  her  guest.  There  was  a  question 
in  his  face. 

"  What  is  it,  Benny  ?"  bending  down  her  head  to  him. 

"  I  say,  Grace,  he  didn't  use  to  be  lame,  did  he  ?"  The 
whisper  could  have  been  heard  to  the  remotest  corner  of 
the  room. 

"Sh!— sh!  Benny." 

"  Don't  be  distressed,  Grace ;  I've  got  over  my  weakness 
about  that.  No,  Benny,  I  didn't  use  to  be  lame ;  but  I 
shall  be  now  as  long  as  I  live." 

Benny's  face  showed  sympathy  through  its  tan  and 
freckles.  After  he  had  left  the  room  a  new  thought  struck 
Grace. 

"  We  must  go  over  to  Mrs.  Trueman's  to-night,"  she 
said.  "  Lucy  and  her  mother  will  want  to  see  you  only 
less  than  I  have." 

"  Not  to-night,  Grace.  I  must  have  you  one  day  to  my 
self.  We'll  go  to-morrow.  How  is  Nathaniel's  mother 
now?" 

"  Very  much  as  when  I  last  wrote  you.     She's  tried  to 


324  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHEKS. 

bear  up  under  the  blow  after  your  uncle's  talk  with  her, 
and  got  about  the  house  some ;  but  you'll  see  at  once  that 
her  heart's  broken." 

"  Poor  Nathaniel !"  sighed  Edward  Dudley,  "  his  death 
went  to  my  heart  as  no  loss  ever  did ;  and  yet  it  was  not 
for  him  I  grieved  but  for  his  mother.  For  the  grief  was 
all  hers,  the  gain  was  Nathaniel's." 

And  so  they  sat  and  talked  until  all  the  west  became 
alive  and  palpitated  with  the  gold  and  maroon  colors  of  sun 
set;  and  then  Deacon  Palmer  returned  home,  bringing  with 
him  Parson  Willetts,  who  had  been  absent  all  day  and  had 
just  learned  of  the  return  of  his  nephew. 

It  had  been  settled  that  Edward  and  Grace  should  go 
over  to  the  tavern  next  morning ;  but  the  grass  had  slipped 
off  its  last  pearls  of  dew  before  they  started,  and  they  had 
not  got  far  from  the  gate  when  a  loud  voice  on  their  left 
hailed  them  suddenly. 

"  Face  about,  my  friends,  and  give  good-morning  to  a 
fellow-traveller." 

Grace  dropped  Edward's  arm  and  turned  around 
sharply.  A  young  man  in  a  soiled,  worn  Continental  uni 
form,  with  a  knapsack  on  his  shoulder,  was  approaching 
them. 

"  Oh,  Edward,  it's  Eobert !"  The  girl  rushed  forward 
and  met  her  brother  half  way. 

They  all  returned  to  the  Deacon's ;  for  of  course  there 
was  no  visiting  at  the  tavern  that  morning.  The  young 
captain  had  managed  the  first  meeting  with  his  sister 
by  concealing  all  that  he  felt  on  that  occasion  under  light 
jests  and  good-natured  bravado  ;  but  when  he  came  to  his 
mother,  whom  he  had  not  met  for  three  years,  Robert  Pal 
mer  quite  broke  down.  The  sight  of  her  tears,  the 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  325 

mother-cry  that  broke  from  her  heart  as  she  caught  a  first 
glance  of  him,  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

But  after  a  while  they  all  grew  composed  again,  and  then 
there  followed  the  old  home-talk,  the  rapid  questions,  the 
pleasant  gossip,  and  the  familiar  faces  and  ways,  all  sweet 
ened  by  memories  of  the  dangers  and  sufferings  that  were 
gone.  Eobert  affirmed  that  it  had  been  his  intention  to 
steal  upon  the  household  by  surprise,  and  that  he  had  been 
for  four  days  indulging  his  fancies  on  the  scenes  that  would 
follow.  "  But,"  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  "  I  exploded  the 
moment  I  saw  Edward  and  Grace,  and  it  was  all  up  with 
me  then.  My  shout  would  come  in  spite  of  me." 

"  I  should  never  have  forgiven  you  if  it  hadn't,"  looking 
at  her  brother  with  fond  eyes. 

He  rose  up  and  stood  before  Mrs.  Palmer  and  Grace, 
with  his  tall,  lithe,  slender  figure. 

"  Well,  mother — sis !  do  I  come  back  from  the  wars 
much  the  worse  for  all  the  hard  usage  I've  under 
gone?" 

"  Not  a  bit,"  with  her  smile,  which  had  several  meanings 
in  it ;  "  only  you're  several  shades  darker  than  when  you 
went  away." 

"  Most  likely  ;  going  to  war  don't  afford  a  fellow  much 
chance  to  attend  to  his  complexion — eh,  Dudley  ?" 

"  We're  all  sufferers  alike  in  that  misfortune.  My  face 
isn't  a  shade  lighter  than  yours,  Robert,"  laughed  the  Colo 
nel. 

When  Grace  suggested  that  Robert  should  accompany 
them  to  the  tavern  that  afternoon,  the  former  answered  : 

"Let  Lucy  alone  until  evening,  sis;  she  won't  want  to 
see  you  before  that  time." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  in  much  surprise. 


326  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"Because  a  gentleman  took  the  stage  with  me  at  New 
ITaven,  and  his  name  was  John  Doming." 

"  Oh,  I  am  glad,  for  Lucy's  sake !  Poor  girl !  She  has 
had  to  bear  all  her  sorrows  alone." 

This  was  true.  John  Doming  had  not  been  able  to  visit 
his  betrothed  after  the  death  of  Nathaniel,  for  he  had  been 
promoted  to  an  office  in  the  commissary  department,  which, 
in  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  involved  much  perplexity 
and  responsibility,  and  it  was  more  difficult  for  him  to 
obtain  a  furlough  than  for  many  who  were  in  active  ser 
vice. 

In  accordance  with  Robert's  suggestion,  the  young  peo 
ple  started  for  Mrs.  Trueman's  after  supper.  They  walked 
silently,  for  the  heart  of  each  was  full  of  thoughts  of 
Nathaniel,  and  of  the  poor  broken-hearted  mother  who 
mourned  through  the  slow  days  because  she  could  not  go 
to  her  boy. 

A  young  moon  was  above  the  hills,  touching  the  tops  of 
the  trees  with  faint  silver,  and  the  sky  was  full  of  the 
beauty  of  stars  when  they  reached  the  tavern. 

Lucy  came  to  the  door.  This  night  she  looked  as  Grace 
had  not  seen  her  since  Nathaniel's  death — like  the  old  Lucy 
Trueman.  Youth  was  strong  in  her,  and  love  was  deep  ; 
but  this  sorrow,  terrible  as  it  had  been,  had  not  ploughed 
up  the  roots  of  her  life  as  it  had  her  mother's. 

But  when  her  eyes  fell  on  the  friend  who  had  been  her 
brother's  dearest  one,  her  voice  fell,  as  the  new  roses  did  in 
her  cheeks,  and  she  opened  the  sitting-room  for  her  guests 
silently. 

Mr.  Deming,  who  was  sitting  there,  came  forward  with  a 
hearty  greeting  for  his  brother-officers,  and  then  they 
turned  towards  Mrs.  Trueman.  She  sat  in  an  arm-chair  by 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  327 

the  window ;  but  the  brisk,  bustling  little  woman  of  for 
mer  days  was  gone  for  ever.  Her  knitting  lay  in  her  lap, 
and  her  face  had  a  slow,  listless,  heart-broken  look,  which 
it  hurt  Edward  Dudley  to  see  more  than  any  passionate 
grief  could  have  done.  He  wrung  the  hand  of  Nathaniel's 
mother  silently,  and  sat  down  without  a  word. 

Then  the  talk  of  every  one  went,  by  mutual  consent,  on 
other  topics  than  of  him  who  seemed  as  close  to  each  one 
as  though  he  sat  in  their  midst  that  night. 

It  was  evident  that  the  sight  of  the  returned  soldiers, 
especially  of  Colonel  Dudley,  had  shaken  Mrs.  Trueman 
out  of  the  usual  torpor  of  her  grief.  She  answered  his 
questions  about  her  health  in  an  absent  way,  and  caught 
up  her  knitting,  and  went  to  work  at  it  with  a  kind  of  ner 
vous  impatience.  Mr.  Doming  and  Robert  were  convers 
ing  in  a  lone  tone  about  the  latter's  return  ;  for  it  seemed 
this  had  formed  a  prominent  subject  in  the  morning  stage 
ride,  when  Mrs.  Trueman  suddenly  spoke,  laying  down  her 
knitting : 

"  What  did  your  mother  say  when  she  saw  you, 
Eobert?" 

"  She  didn't  say  much ;  she  was  too  glad  for  many 
words,  ma'am." 

"  And  I'm  glad,  too,  for  her  sake ;  but  oh,  Eobert,  / 
haven't  any  boy  to  come  back  to  me !" 

The  three  young  men  felt  the  mother's  grief  at  that  mo 
ment  as  they  never  had  before.  No  one  could  speak  for 
a  while.  At  last  Edward  Dudley  did. 

"Mrs.  Trueman,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "if  our  dear  Na 
thaniel  were  to  send  you  a  message  to-night  desiring  you 
to  do  anything  for  his  sake  and  in  his  name,  would  you 
make  an  effort  to  do  it  ?" 


328  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  Wouldn't  I  ?"  cried  the  mother,  her  voice  breaking 
out  into  sudden  sobs.  "  Wouldn't  I  go  the  round  world 
over  to  do  whatever  my  boy  asked  if  1  could  only  get  one 
word  from  him  ?" 

It  was  impossible  to  hear  the  mother  unmoved;  but  Ed 
ward  Dudley  controlled  himself  to  say  : 

"  Mrs.  Trueman,  I  bring  you  that  word  from  Nathaniel" 

And  now  the  mother  was  not  the  only  one  who  hushed 
her  sobs  and  listened  breathless. 

"It  was  in  the  early  part  of  the  war,"  the  young  Colonel 
went  on  to  say,  "  and  one  night  it  came  Nathaniel's  turn 
to  serve  on  picket  guard.  It  was  a  raw,  blustering  night, 
and  I  knew  it  was  service  he  wasn't  accustomed  to,  and 
thought  it  might  help  his  half  of  the  night  along  if  I  should 
go  out  and  stay  with  him." 

"Oh,  Edward,  that  was  good  of  you  !"  said  Mrs.  True- 
man  ;  it  was  the  first  time  she  had  called  him  this,  and  she 
bent  forward  and  took  the  soldier's  hands  in  hers,  and 
stroked  them  softly  in  just  the  same  way  as  she  had  strok 
ed  Nathaniel's  little  ones  long  ago  when  he  lay  smiling  on 
her  lap. 

"  Nathaniel  loved  you !"  she  said,  looking  up  into  the 
young  man's  face  with  almost  the  look  which  had  belonged 
to  the  dead.  "  He  told  me  he  did  better  than  anybody  in 
the  world,  except  Lucy  and  me." 

"  And  as  though  he  were  bone  of  my  bone  and  flesh  of 
my  flesh  did  I  love  Nathaniel  Trueman,"  answered  Ed 
ward  Dudley. 

"  That  night  we  fell  to  talking,  as  was  natural,  about 
home  folks,  and  Nathaniel  said  to  me :  '  I'm  never  a  cow 
ard,  Captain  Dudley,  except  when  I  think  of  my  mother. 
For  myself,  I'm  ready  to  live  or  to  die  this  night,  as  the 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  329 

Lord  sees  fit,  in  the  service  of  my  country;  but  when  I  think 
of  mother,  then,  there's  no  denying  it,  I'm  afraid.' 

"  '  And  it's  a  fear  that  does  you  double  honor,  my  young 
friend,'  I  said.  'I  never  put  it  in  that  light  exactly,' an 
swered  Nathaniel.  '  But  you  know  just  how  it  is.  Mo 
ther's  set  her  whole  heart  on  me,  and  loves  me  better  than 
we  ought  to  love  anything  in  this  world,  I  s'pose  ;  and 
when  I  get  to  thinking  if  any  harm  should  come  to  me 
how  she  would  take  it,  I  can't  stand  it,  Dudley  ;  I  can't 
stand  it !'  and  he  wrung  my  hand  hard. 

"  And  1  answered  him  :  '  Nathaniel,  the  Lord  who  gives 
you  grace  to  say  this  night  you  are  ready  to  do  His  will, 
be  it  for  life  or  death,  will  give  your  mother  strength  to 
bear  whatever  grief  or  loss  He  appoints  her.' 

"  '  But  it's  just  there  that  my  faith  fails  me.  I  know 
how  her  very  life  is  bound  up  in  mine,  and  I'm  afraid  she'd 
never  look  up  again  if  she  lost  me.  I  can't  have  any  fear 
for  myself,  because,  sweet  as  life  is,  I  believe  that  if  its 
end  came  suddenly  to  me  I  should  go  to  Him  whose  pro 
mises  I  have  trusted  and  whose  salvation  is  the  Eock  of 
my  hope  and  peace.'  " 

And  here  Edward  Dudley  paused  a  little,  and  his  hearers 
knew  that  just  so  had  Nathaniel  paused  when  he  kept 
watch  that  wild  night  on  the  battle-field. 

"  '  But  I'm  afraid  that  mother  would  forget  in  her  grief 
how  much  better  it  was  with  me  there  than  it  could  ever 
be  with  me  here  ;  and  Dudley,  if  it  shall  so  be  that  I  go 
first,  and  you  ever  return  and  see  my  mother,  will  you 
promise  me  to  take  this  message  to  her,  be  it  sooner  or 
later?' 

"  And  we  clasped  hands  there,  and  I  promised  him  in  a 
lull  of  the  wind. 


830  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  '  I  want  you  to  solemnly  charge  her,  as  though  I  came 
back  from  the  grave  and  spoke  to  her,  not  to  go  sorrow 
ing  and  broken-hearted  through  life  for  me ;  to  think  of 
me  gladly,  to  speak  of  me  cheerfully  as  of  one  with  whom 
it  is  all  well,  and  who  has  only  gone  home  a  little  while 
before  her.  Tell  her  to  be  glad,  because  she  had  me  to  give 
to  God ;  glad  because  I  am  happy ;  and  to  think  and  to  speak 
of  me  not  as  dead,  but  as  Nathaniel  who  is  in  heaven.'  " 

Mrs.  Trueman  leaned  forward  ;  the  tears  fell  softly  into 
her  lap. 

"  Edward,"  she  said,  after  a  long  stillness,  "  my  heart  is 
comforted  at  last.  I  will  obey  Nathaniel's  last  message.  I 
•will  not  grieve  for  him  as  I  have  done.  I  will  wait 
patiently  until  God  calls  me." 

"  And  whether  you  or  I  meet  Nathaniel,  who  is  in 
heaven,  first,  Mrs.  Trueman,  he  will  know  that  I  fulfilled 
his  wish,  and  that  it  accomplished  the  work  which  he  de 
sired  it  should,"  said  the  young  Colonel. 

"  Oh,  I  see  now  I've  been  in  the  wrong  to  grieve  so 
long  without  any  hope,"  continued  Mrs.  Trueman,  with 
the  tears  which  had  blessedness  and  healing  in  them  fall 
ing  softly  on  the  hands  clasped  in  her  lap.  "Sometimes 
when  your  uncle  talked  to  me,  Edward,  as  never  man 
talked  before,  it  would  seem  to  me  for  a  little  while  that 
I  could  almost  give  him  up  to  God;  and  then  the  old 
longing  and  hungering  for  a  sight  of  my  boy's  dead  face 
would  come  back  to  me,  and  I  couldn't  put  it  away ;  but 
your  mother  won't  forget  your  words,  Nathaniel ;  no,  she 
won't  forget  them !" 

There  came  a  sob  from  the  corner  where  Lucy  sat,  and 
John  Deming  went  up  to  the  weeping  girl  and  drew  her 
arm  softly,  in  his  and  led  her  to  her  mother. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  331 

"  Mrs.  Trueman,"  said  tlie  officer,  "  will  you  take  me 
in  Nathaniel's  stead  for  Lucy's  sake?" 

She  looked  up  then  and  smiled  on  them  through  her 
tears  as  she  had  not  smiled  since  Nathaniel's  death. 

"  I  will  take  you  in  his  stead,"  she  answered.  "  My 
boy  and  girl,  may  the  Lord  bless  you!" 

An  hour  later  the  three  young  men  and  Grace  started 
for  home,  for  the  lawyer  accompanied  his  brother-officers 
to  the  Deacon's.  They  talked,  as  was  natural,  on  the 
prospects  of  peace,  and  discussed  the  state  of  the  army 
and  the  insurrection  that  was  imminent  among  the  sol 
diery  if  Congress  did  not  take  some  measures  to  settle 
the  long  delayed  payments  of  both  officers  and  men.  As 
they  drew  near  the  house  they  caught  sight  of  the  flag 
waving  above  Grace's  window  in  the  faint  moonlight. 
The  sight  of  it  thrilled  all  their  hearts.  For  that  banner 
they  had  toiled  and  suffered,  and  counted  no  sacrifice  dear. 
To  earn  for  it  a  name  and  a  place  among  the  nations  had 
been  the  one  aim  and  toil  of  their  youth  ;  and  now  its  fair 
folds  floated  them  the  sign  and  token  of  their  triumph — the 
new,  glorious  witness  in  the  face  of  all  the  old  tyrannies 
and  despotisms  of  the  ages  that  a  new  deliverance  and 
liberty  had  arisen  in  the  earth. 

And  as  such  thoughts  crowded  fast  on  the  souls  of  the 
young  officers,  they  took  off  their  hats  and  swung  them  in 
the  air,  and  saluted  the  flag  with  three  cheers  so  loud  and 
long  that  the  echoes  on  the  distant  hills  woke  up  and  hurl 
ed  them  back  like  the  sound  of  thunder.  In  a  moment 
lights  appeared  at  the  windows  of  the  distant  farm-houses, 
and  heads  were  thrust  out  here  and  there. 

"  We've  roused  up  the  good  people  in  the  neighborhood 
by  our  explosive  patriotism,"  laughed  Edward  Dudley. 


332  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"No  matter;  it  was  in  such  a  good  cause;  "with  that 
laugh  of  hers  which  was  so  sweet  a  thing  to  hear  that  one 
would  be  sure  to  listen  for  it  again ;  and  then  Eobert  open 
ed  the  gate,  and  the  brother  and  sister  went  up  to  the 
house,  while  the  Colonel  returned  to  the  Parson's  and  his 
friend  to  the  tavern. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  333 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"  ROBERT,"  called  Grace  Palmer  from  the  head  of  the 
stairs  one  morning,  "  won't  you  come  up  here  ?  I  want  to 
put  your  ingenuity  to  active  use  this  morning." 

Robert  went  up  to  his  sister  with  a  comical  lugubrious- 
ness  in  his  face. 

"  Use  is  a  word  I  never  took  much  delight  in ;  but  I'm 
ready  to  sacrifice  myself  for  your  services  this  forenoon." 

The  brother  and  sister  went  into  the  "  spare  chamber." 
In  one  corner  stood  the  high-post  mahogany  bedstead, 
with  its  snowy  curtains  of  white  dimity  depending  from 
the  foot. 

"  I've  been  trying  to  fasten  them  up  for  the  last  hour; 
but  I'm  not  tall  enough  nor  strong  enough,  and  I  remem 
bered  you  were  both,  Robert." 

He  took  up  the  hammer,  whistling  a  tune,  and  mounted 
the  chair  which  Grace  had  vacated  and  went  diligently  to 
work,  while  Grace  busied  herself  with  the  large  loops  of 
satin  ribbon  with  which  the  curtains  were  caught  back  to 
the  bedposts. 

"  There,  does  that  suit  you  ?"  asked  the  young  man,  with 
a  flourish  of  his  hammer,  half  an  hour  later. 

"Perfectly.  You've  made  a  good  Captain,  Robert,  but 
it's  manifest  enough  nature  cut  you  out  for  a  carpenter." 

"  The  world  will  lose  the  benefit  my  genius  might  have 


I 

334  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

conferred  upon  it,  then,  for  I've  settled  my  work  in  life 
within  the  last  few  days." 

Grace's  head  was  lifted  in  quick  surprise. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Robert  ?" 

"  Simply  that  as  soon  as  General  Washington  gives  the 
order  for  our  army  to  disband,  I  am  going  to  turn  my 
sword  into  a  ploughshare,  and,  after  the  example  of 
my  forefathers,  settle  down  a  simple  patriarch  of  the 
soil." 

"You  look  very  much  like  one  !"  said  his  sister,  setting 
the  words  to  the  tune  of  her  laugh. 

"  Never  mind  that,  Grace.  It  takes  time  to  accomplish 
a  transition  like  the  one  I've  in  view.  But,  seriously,  I've 
had  several  long  talks  with  father  of  late,  and  he  feels  he's 
growing  old,  and  wants  gradually  to  drop  off  the  mantle 
of  the  farm  from  his  shoulders  to  mine.  There's  no  other 
in  the  family  to  receive  it;  and  though  my  tastes  would 
have  led  me  to  a  different  sort  of  life,  I  couldn't  see  the  old 
homestead  fall  into  strange  hands ;  so  I've  consented  to 
father's  plan.  He's  set  his  heart  on  it." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,  Robert,  for  all  our  sakes.  One  of  these 
days,  too,  I  suppose  there'll  be  another  Mrs.  Palmer,  on 
whose  shoulders  mother  can  drop  her  mantle,  too." 

"  That  depends  on  several  things,  Gracie.  I've  got  my 
little  watch-case  yet." 

"  What  an  example  of  fidelity  you  are,  Eobert.  I  sup 
pose  the  little  girl  who  made  that  is  almost  a  young  lady 
now?" 

"  She  must  be  eighteen  at  least.  When  the  war  is  over 
I  intend  to  go  in  quest  of  her.  You  have  kept  my  secret 
well,  Grace,  and  you  are  a  woman,  too." 

"  I  don't  relish  that  kind  of  compliment,  "Robert ;  but  I'll 


* 

BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS.  335 

forgive  the  implied  reflection  on  my  sex,  and  wish  you 
success  in  your  knight-errantry." 

Robert's  thoughts  seemed  to  have  gone  away  from  this 
conversation,  with  its  combination  of  jest  and  earnestness, 
to  some  other  topic.  He  looked  at  his  sister  gravely,  and 
then  asked : 

"  Grace,  have  you  any  definite  plans  about  your  future 
— what  it  will  be,  and  where  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Grace,  very  gravely  now.  "  Edward 
and  I  have  never  talked  it  over,  and  all  these  long  years  I 
have  never  dared  to  indulge  dreams  of  the  future  which 
only  made  the  present  seem  more  dreadful.  But  why  do 
you  ask,  Eobert  ?" 

"  Because,  putting  this  and  that  together,  with  some  hints 
which  Edward  has  dropped,  I  have  a  strong  notion  where 
his  tastes  and  choice  will  fall." 

"  Where  ?"  asked  Grace,  and  the  satin  ribbon  fell  from 
her  hands. 

Robert  shook  his  head. 

"  He'll  tell  his  own  plans  and  purposes  when  he  gets 
ready.  I  didn't  know  but  he  had  done  this  already,  and 
only  asked  to  see  if  they  confirmed  my  opinions." 

And  all  his  sister's  questioning  could  draw  nothing  fur 
ther  out  of  Robert.  But  his  remarks  afforded  her  a  new 
topic  of  wonder  and  interest. 

The  furlough  of  Colonel  Dudley  and  Captain  Palmer 
expired  in  less  than  two  weeks,  and  the  evening  previous 
to  the  former's  departure  he  said  to  Grace  : 

"  Put  on  your  bonnet.  We  must  take  our  last  walk  to 
gether." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that ;"  her  face  showed  plainer  than  she 
fancied  how  the  speech  had  hurt  her. 


336  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  Our  last  before  I  return  to  go  no  more  to  battle,"  was 
the  young  Colonel's  reassuring  answer.  "  I  tell  you  my 
honest  convictions  when  I  say  that  I  believe  Great  Britain 
and  America  have  fought  their  last  battle,  and  all  the  tid 
ings  which  we  receive  from  across  the  water  confirm  this 
opinion.  I  believe  that  the  English  government  will  soon 
acknowledge  our  independence  and  withdraw  their  troops 
from  our  shores." 

"  Oh,  blessed  day  for  all  who  see  it !"  exclaimed 
Grace. 

"  I  trust  that  we  shall ;  and  you  who  have  been  so  brave 
through  all  the  darkness  and  peril  of  the  past  will  not  fail 
me,  now  that  the  danger  is  over." 

And  he  took  her  straw  hat  from  her  hands  and  tied  it 
carefully,  and  they  went  out  together. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  she  said,  as  he  gave  her  his  arm  at  the 
gate,  "  that  all  the  heroism  has  left  me,  and  that  I  should 
prove  myself  only  the  weakest  of  cowards  if  another  time 
of  trial  should  come." 

"  You'd  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  I  am  persuaded,  Grace ; 
but  you've  lived  heroism  enough  for  one  life." 

Then  they  looked  on  the  night  and  were  silent.  The 
moon  hung  like  a  great  golden  lily  in  the  sky,  and  beneath 
it  the  earth  lay  in  a  white  flowing  tunic  of  light.  The 
spring  was  early  that  year,  and  the  sprouting  leaves  ran  in 
a  green  flame»along  the  branches,  and  the  land  was  stirring 
with  the  life  and  joy  of  May. 

The  Colonel  broke  the  silence  which  had  been  audible 
to  both  of  them. 

"Grace,"  he  said,  "have  you  divined,  with  some  nice 
intuition  of  yours,  that  my  thoughts  for  the  last  week  hnve 
been  much  with  your  future  and  mine  ?" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  337 

"  My  *  nice  intuitions'  have  all  failed  me,"  she  said,  and 
the  soft  flush  on  her  cheeks  became  wide  bloom. 

"  Well,  then,  I  must  tell  you,  with  such  bungling  unsa 
tisfactory  words  as  I  can  find,  that  I  am  tired  of  living 
away  from  you  and  without  you,  and  that  when  I  come 
back  my  heart  will  want  you,  and  it  will  not  easily  be 
patient  and  wait" 

She  did  not  answer  him ;  on  the  soft  matting  of  grass, 
swathed  in  moonlight,  she  walked  with  her.  fair  head 
drooping  by  his  side. 

"  Grace,"  he  said,  after  a  little  silence,  "  look  up  and  tell 
me  what  profession  or  work  in  life  you  would  choose  for 
me." 

She  looked  up  now,  earnest  and  frank. 

"  Just  that  one  which  would  suit  your  tastes  and  charac 
ter  best." 

"  Well,  put  it  in  another  way.  Of  all  business  and  pro 
fessions,  which  do  you  consider  the  best,  the  noblest  in 
which  a  man  can  engage  ?" 

"  Any  and  all  are  good  if  a  man  does  his  duty  in  them  ; 
but  I  suppose  there  is  no  work  so  great,  so  noble,  so  good, 
as  that  of  a  faithful  minister  of  the  Gospel." 

"  1  think  so.     How  would  you  like  me  to  be  this  ?" 

Her  start  of  surprise,  her.  amazed,  half-doubtful  look, 
was  something  he  seemed  to  enjoy. 

"  Oh,  Edward,  I  never  thought  of  you  as  that  /" 

"  I  know  it ;  but  I  have  for  some  years  past,  and  the 
time  has  come  for  me  now  to  decide.  It  is  right  that  I 
should  tell  you  that  I  must  make  some  sacrifices  if  I  enter 
the  ministry,  for  I  have  very  little  worldly  goods,  as  you 
know,  and  I  have  some  friends  in  high  places  who  will  be 
ready  to  serve  me ;  and  our  young  country  will  need  just 

15 


338  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

now  men  of  talent  and  education  in  this  new  experiment 
of  a  democratic  government.  There  is  a  probability  that 
a  political  career,  which  promises  in  a  few  years  emolument 
and  position,  will  open  before  me  if  I  choose  to  seek  it." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  fond,  proud 
eyes. 

"But  there  are  greater,  better  things  than  these;  and  I 
can  in  no  way  serve  God  and  my  generation  so  well  as  to 
be  a  minister  of  the  Gospel." 

"  Then  be  one,  Edward,"  and  the  soul  of  Grace  Palmer 
was  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  know,  Grace,  when  you  say  this,  that  it  involves 
a  good  deal  of  sacrifice  and  responsibility  for  you." 

Her  smile  was  touching  in  its  humility,  and  yet  it  was 
brave  and  hopeful  enough  to  satisfy  any  man ;  just  the  sort 
of  smile  that  needed  no  words  to  help  it. 

A  little  while  afterwards  Edward  Dudley  went  on  to  say 
that  he  had  talked  the  matter  over  on  all  sides  with  his 
uncle,  and  that  Parson  Willetts  had  entered  very  warmly 
into  the  matter,  and  was  quite  determined  that  as  soon  as 
the  war  was  closed  Edward  should  at  once  return  to  the 
parsonage  and  study  theology  for  a  couple  of  years  with 
him. 

He  was  growing  infirm,  and  fancied  that  Edward,  on 
whom  the  old  man  doated  as  on  a  son,  could  be  of  much 
service  to  him  in  sharing  somewhat  his  parochial  work  and 
duties,  which  the  clergyman's  growing  infirmities  began  to 
make  burdensome. 

"  And  Grace,"  continued  the  young  man,  "  the  parson 
age  needs  sadly  the  kindly  influences,  the  graceful  handi 
work  of  a  woman  all  over  it.  How  would  you  like  to  go 
there  and  live  with  uncle  and  me  ?" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  339 

Her  face  dropped  beyond  his  gaze,  but  her  answer  came 
h  urried  and  frightened  : 

"  Oh,  Edward,  I  couldn't  go  there  to  live  I" 

He  had  expected  just  such  a  protest. 

"  What ;  not  with  we,  Grace !  I  don't  like  to  be  put  off 
for  another  two  years,  and  shall  be  a  great  deal  happier 
with  you  to  smile  on  and  encourage  my  studies  every  day." 

Edward  Dudley  used  a  great  deal  of  this  style  of  argu 
ment,  which  he  rightly  divined  would  have  more  weight 
than  any  other  with  Grace,  especially  when  he  put  the 
matter  in  a  way  which  he  declared  would  most  promote 
his  own  happiness  and  welfare. 

There  were  numerous  objections  and  protests  which  he 
had  to  meet  and  overcome,  which  related  principally  to  her 
own  inexperience  for  such  a  position ;  but  the  matter  ended 
at  last  in  Grace's  soft  admission  that  she  could  be  happy 
anywhere  if  she  was  of  any  comfort  or  aid  to  Edward. 

"  Then  go  home  and  get  ready  to  come  with  me  soon 
after  Great  Britain  acknowledges  the  independence  of  these 
United  States,"  he  said  to  her  as  he  opened  the  garden 
gate,  and  she  knew  what  he  meant. 

Their  parting  that  night  was  not  what  the  others  had 
been ;  and  remembering  this,  the  twain  thanked  God  in 
their  hearts. 

"  Gracie,"  whispered  Robert  to  her  the  next  morning, 
just  as  he  was  about  leaving,  "  do  you  know  what  I  meant 
when  I  spoke  about  Edward  Dudley's  future  prospects  that 
morning  when  we  put  up  the  curtains  in  the  spare  cham 
ber?" 

"  How  should  I  know,  when  you  wouldn't  give  me  the 
least  light  on  the  matter  ?"  she  said,  with  a  little  conscious 
look. 


340  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

"  "Well,  then,  if  I  must  come  straight  out,  how  does  the 
idea  of  being  a  parson's  wife  strike  you  ?" 

Her  laugh  and  her  blush  leaped  out  together. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  you'd  know  in  good  time  ?  I  wasn't 
going  to  anticipitate  Edward's  questions,"  patting  her  on 
the  cheek.  "  Here  is  prosperity  to  you  both  with  my  last 
kiss,"  and  Eobert  Palmer  went  his  way. 

And  so,  after  long  waiting,  the  time  came  for  Grace  to 
set  about  preparations  for  her  wedding  wardrobe,  as  happy 
maidens  do,  amid  sweet  visions  of  the  future,  of  home  and 
love,  and  new  pleasant  cares  and  duties ;  and  if  memories 
of  the  past  crept  up  and  sobered  somewhat  the  radiant 
perspective  of  Grace  Palmer's  future,  she  was  not  the  less 
but  the  more  blessed  for  these  things. 

There  were  no  sewing-machines  in  those  days  to  facilitate 
matters,  and  the  spinning-wheel  and  the  slow  toiling  needle 
had  to  do  it  all ;  but  there  were  two  pairs  of  busy  and 
skilful  hands  for  the  work,  and  hosts  of  willing  friends  and 
neighbors  to  add  their  tributaries  to  the  general  forces  of 
quilting,  and  cutting,  and  basting,  and  stitching. 

Great  was  the  consternation  of  the  Deacon's  wife  when 
she  first  learned  the  future  which  awaited  her  daughter ; 
and  which  in  those  days  was  regarded  as  one  of  peculiar 
importance  and  responsibility;  but  after  pondering  the 
matter  in  her  own  mind  for  a  few  days,  and  regarding  the 
girl  with  a  good  deal  of  solicitude,  Mrs.  Palmer  privately 
informed  the  Deacon  that  she'd  "ra'ly  brought  herself  to 
the  conclusion  that  Grace  was  cut  out  for  a  minister's  wife." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OP  OUR  FATHERS.  341 


CHAPTER  XXVH. 

ANOTHER  year  had  passed.  This  one  had  gone  swiftly — 
so  swiftly  that  when  it  laid  its  harvest  of  days  gathered 
out  of  the  golden  spring,  and  glowing  summer,  and  the  red 
heart  of  the  autumn,  in  the  great  white  storehouse  of  winter, 
Grace  asked,  with  a  wide  wonder  in  her  brown  eyes : 

"  Where  has  the  year  gone?"  And  it  was  the  first  time 
for  eight  years  that  she  had  asked  this  question. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  May.  The  brier-roses  were  in 
a  red  heat  of  bloom  by  the  window ;  the  lilacs  were  in 
a  purple  flame;  the  apple-trees,  in  the  full  tide  of  blos 
soming,  stood  up  that  year  like  a  vast  white  rose,  flushed 
with  pink. 

On  this  last  day  of  May  Mrs.  Palmer  and  Grace  stood 
together  in  the  spare  chamber,  where  the  open  windows  let 
in  a  shower  of  sunlight  and  all  kinds  of  sprouting  fra 
grances.  Both  mother  and  daughter  were  intent  on  securing 
in  the  frames  a  piece  of  elaborate  patchwork  in  the  shape 
of  a  flaming  sunflower,  made  of  diminutive  triangles  of 
bright-colored  satin  on  a  grey-white  ground  of  the  same 
material,  while  four  stars  of  smaller  size  and  similar  pattern 
occupied  the  corners  of  the  immense  square. 

"  Well,  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  as  she  adjusted  one  of 
the  chairs  on  which  the  long  frames  rested  for  the  twentieth 
time,  and  surveyed  the  flaming  billows  of  patchwork  with 
admiration,  "  we  must  chalk  the  first  row  round  this  after- 


342  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

noon,  for  I  shall  have  enough  to  keep  me  spry  to-morrow 
mornin'  gettin'  ready  for  the  quiltm'-party  by  two  o'clock. 
Have  you  made  up  your  mind  yet  what  pattern  you'll 
have?" 

"No;  I'll  let  you  decide,  mother,"  running  a  cord 
through  a  small  groove  in  a  ball  of  chalk. 

Mrs.  Palmer  looked  anxious  and  undecided. 

"  There's  scroll,  and  double-shell,  and  oak-leaf,  and 
herrin'-bone,  and  di'mond,  that  al'ays  look  well ;  I  can't 
tell  for  the  life  on  me  which  would  suit  this  best." 

"  Suppose  we  decide  on  the  double-shells,  then,"  answered 
Grace,  not  suspecting  that  the  name  had  quite  as  much  to 
do  with  her  choice  as  the  inherent  merit  of  the  pflSttern. 

"Double-shells  never  was  beat  in  my  eye,"  answered 
her  mother,  glad  to  reach  a  decision  on  so  important  a 
matter. 

Then  followed  a  brief  discussion  respecting  the  position 
of  the  first  row  of  shells ;  and  after  this,  Mrs.  Palmer  con 
tinued  : 

"  There's  no  use,  Grace,  in  askin'  any  more  than  can  get 
round  the  quilt,  but  I  expect  there'll  be  a  good  many  hard 
feelin's  in  consequence ;  everybody  '11  want  a  hand  in  it." 

"  Well,  we  can  obviate  all  trouble  in  that  quarter  by 
giving  out  invitations  for  two  afternoons ;  we  never  could 
get  through  with  it  in  one,  mother." 

"  That's  a  real  bright  idee,  Grace ;  and  it  won't  be  much 
more  trouble  to  bake  up  for  two  suppers  than  for  one." 

At  this  moment  Deacon  Palmer  came  into  the  chamber. 
They  manifested  no  surprise  at  seeing  him,  for  the  old  man 
of  late  was  in  the  habit  of  passing  any  little  interludes  in 
his  farm-work  with  his  family.  His  glance  fell  on  the 
quilt  a  moment,  and  then  went  up  to  his  daughter's  face, 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  343 

with  some  new  tenderness  struggling  under  the  heavy 
eyebrows.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder. 

"  It  don't  seem  as  though  I  was  going  to  lose  my  little 
girl  so  soon,"  he  said,  softly. 

Grace  could  now  bear  any  allusions  to  her  future  with 
tolerable  composure,  and  the  flush  that  was  like  the  tint  of 
sea-shells  in  her  cheek  scarcely  deepened  itself  as  she  looked 
up  with  a  smile  that  was  worth  going  far  to  see. 

"I  won't  be  much  of  a  loss,  father  dear;  I  shall  be 
so  near  home,  you  know." 

"I  know  it;  I'm  not  certain  I  ever  could  be  brought 
to  givin'  you  up  if  Edward  was  a  goin'  to  carry  you  away 
off  fromjis." 

And  Grace  wondered  as  she  bent  over  the  quilt  whether, 
even  for  Edward's  sake,  she  could  make  up  her  mind  to  go 
very  far  from  her  father,  as  old  age  was  beginning  to  close 
round  him  and  she  was  the  very  apple  of  his  eye.  Per 
haps  her  parents  divined  her  thought,  for  there  was  a  little 
silence  which  Mrs.  Palmer  broke: 

"  Father,  did  you  ever  set  your  eyes  on  a  greater  beauty 
than  that?"  nodding  towards  the  quilt. 

The  Deacon  inspected  it  with  that  look  of  profound 
mystery  and  helpless  incapacity  which  his  sex  are  apt  to 
bestow  on  all  such  triumphs  of  feminine  genius. 

"  It  looks  fine  as  a  peacock,"  was  his  not  very  appre 
ciative  rejoinder.  "  But,  mother,  aren't  you  taking  rather  too 
much  on  your  hands  jest  now  ?  You've  been  all  your  life 
about  this  'ere  kind  of  work,  and  you  must  have  bedquilts 
enough  by  this  time  to  outlast  half  a  dozen  genera 
tions." 

"  Father,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer,  stopping  short  in  her 
work  and  confronting  her  husband  with  a  solemn  impres- 


344  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

siveness  of  tone  and  manner,  "  would  you  have  a  daughter 
of  your'n  get  married  without  a  quiltin'  jjforehand  ?" 

Thus  appealed  to,  the  Deacon  looked  undecided  and 
reflective. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  can  see  any  objection  to  it.  I  s'pose 
folks  have  done  it  afore,  and  got  through  life  jest  as  com 
fortable." 

"  Decent  folks  never  have  !T'  with  a  very  fervid  emphasis 
on  the  adjective ;  for  Mrs.  Palmer  was  a  strong  conservator 
of  all  old  customs  and  ceremonies.  "  For  my  part,  I  could 
never  be  brought  to  consentin'  to  a  weddin's  comin'  off 
under  my  roof  without  a  quiltin'  aforehand." 

Mrs.  Palmer  being  summoned  down  stairs  at^is  junc 
ture,  her  further  remarks  were  cut  short. 

"  What  day  does  Edward  say  we  may  look  for  him  now, 
Grace  ?"  asked  her  father. 

"  The  first  of  week  after  next.  He  writes  that  he  has  a 
furlough  for  an  indefinite  period  from  General  Washington. 
He  thinks  that  the  army  will  be  disbanded  soon  ;  and  there 
is  no  probability  of  his  returning  to  it.  And,  father — " 

She  caught  her  breath  here,  and  small  soft  flames  in  her 
cheek  went,  and  came,  and  widened. 

"  Go  on,  my  child." 

"  He  writes  that  he  hasn't  any  time  to  spare  now ;  and 
he's  anxious  to  get  to  work ;  and,  and — a  good  many  other 
things.  In  short,  he  wants  matters  to  come  off  a  day  or 
two  after  his  return." 

"  Whew  !"  said  the  Deacon.  "  So  soon  as  that  ?  The 
fellow's  in  a  great  hurry,  seems  to  me." 

"  He's  had  to  wait  eight  years,  you  know,  father,"  with 
a  very  beguiling  little  plea  in  her  tones. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  make  up  my  mind  to  it 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  345 

one  time  as  another,  bein'  it's  got  to  come ;  so  take  your 
own  time,  Grace." 

"  Dear  father !" — The  tears  that  stood  bright  in  her  eyes 
said  the  rest. 

Then  the  Deacon  drew  a  long  narrow  package,  with  some 
foreign  marks  on  it,  from  his  deep  coat-pocket. 

"It  seems  that  I'm  jest  in  time,"  he  said,  handing  it 
to  Grace.  "The  barge  got  in  to-day,  and  Captain  Ash 
is  an  old  friend  of  mine  and  give  me  a  fust  chance  at  his 
cargo,  and  that  was  among  'em." 

The  girl's  eager  fingers  tore  away  the  wrappings,  and  a 
magnificent  brocade  disclosed  itself.  Its  lavender-colored 
ground  drifted  all  over  with  lilies  of  the  valley,  whose 
flakes  and  festoons  of  shining  silver  looked  at  a  little  dis 
tance  like  a  white  cloud  of  surf  dazzled  with  sunshine. 

"  Oh,  father !"  Grace  drew  a  long  breath  and  clasped  her 
hands  in  a  most  expressive  pantomime  of  admiration. 

"  You  won't  think  your  father's  without  some  taste 
now?"  enjoying  to  the  full  her  mute  surprise  and  delight. 

"I  never  saw  anything  half  so  beautiful  in  my  life! 
Why,  father,  I  shall  never  dare  to  wear  it.  It's  good 
enough  for  a  queen !" 

"  And  isn't  my  daughter  good  enough  for  a  queen  ?" 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Palmer  returned,  and  her  eyes 
were  dazzled  with  the  silver  cloud  which  Grace  held  up 
before  her. 

The  usual  feminine  range  of  adjectives  at  Mrs.  Palmer's 
command  failed  her  at  this  time.  After  inspecting  the 
fabric  at  different  points  she  said,  making  a  tactile  exa 
mination  of  its  quality  :  * 

"  It's  thick  as  any  board,  and  will  stand  alone  any  day. 
I  declare,  Grace  !"  And  she  shook  her  head. 

15* 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS. 

Mrs.  Palmer  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  embody  in 
words  the  various  feelings  which  expressed  themselves  in 
that  pantomime.  The  Deacon  only  recognised  a  small  part 
of  these  when  he  said : 

"I  know  it  looks  rather  showy  for  plain  folks  like  us; 
but,  mother,  we\e  only  one  daughter,  and  she  won't  get 
married  but  once  in  her  life,  so  we  can  afford  to  make 
something  of  a  time  over  it." 

All  the  mother  was  in  the  pride  and  tenderness  of  the 
glance  which  Mrs.  Palmer  lifted  to  her  daughter's  face. 

"  I  s'pose  we  can't  do  too  much  for  her,  father,  seein',  as 
you  say,  she's  all  we've  got.  I'm  goin'  to  do  somethin'  for 
my  part,  too  ;  and  that's  to  give  you,  Grace,  your  grandma's 
silver  set.  Likely  you'll  want  to  use  it  sometimes,  though  I 
never  had  it  out  except  to  rub  it  up  once  a  year.  It's  been 
in  the  family  over  a  hundred  years.  There  isn't  many  a 
girl  will  have  the  settin'  out  you  will,  Grace." 

"There  isn't  many '11  deserve  it,"  thought  her  father; 
although,  from  conscientious  motives,  he  refrained  from  ex 
pressing  his  opinion. 

At  last,  when  he  turned  to  go  down  stairs,  Mrs.  Palmer 
followed  him,  asking  in  a  slightly  wheedling  tone : 

"Now,  father,  do  tell  me  what  you  give  for  that  weddin' 
dress?" 

"  That's  the  Captain's  secret  and  mine,"  answered  the 
Deacon.  And  Mrs.  Palmer  knew  that  they  both  could 
keep  it. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  347 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  two  weeks  which  intervened  were  very  rapid  and 
busy  ones  under  the  Deacon's  roof.  Mrs.  Palmer  found,  as 
the  time  for  the  wedding  drew  near,  that  the  demands  of 
the  occasion  transcended  her  powers  and  Grace's ;  so  she 
beguiled  into  her  service  "  Aunt  Chloe,"  an  old  colored 
woman  who  had  presided  over  Parson  Willetts's  domestic 
affairs  since  the  death  of  his  wife. 

Aunt  Chloe  was  a  small,  thin,  withered  little  woman, 
with  a  flaming  red  and  yellow  turban  beetling  majestically 
over  her  sable  complexion  and  general  abruptness  of  fea 
ture.  But  the  thick,  mellow  laugh,  always  shaking  the  lit 
tle  withered  body  to  and  fro,  was  absolute  testimony  to  her 
good-nature,  and  she  possessed  all  that  natural  shrewdness 
of  observation,  that  quick  wit  and  imitation  which  are 
among  the  characteristics  of  her  race. 

Moreover,  Aunt  Chloe  was  possessed  of  remarkable  gas 
tronomic  genius,  and  she  was  always  in  her  element  in  the 
midst  of  preparations  for  a  wedding ;  and  in  the  concoctions 
of  various  kinds  of  wedding-cake  she  held  herself  abso 
lutely  without  a  rival ;  and  Mrs.  Palmer  had  accordingly 
resigned  this  department  into  her  hands. 

The  morning  of  the  day  previous  to  that  on  which  the 
ceremony  was  to  take  place,  Mrs.  Palmer  came  into  the 
kitchen  in  a  fever  of  heat  and  exertion. 

"  Oh,  dear,  Aunt  Chloe,  it's  a  comfort  to  think  folks 
don't  have  to  get  married  but  once  in  their  lives." 


348  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

Aunt  Chloe's  chuckling,  oleaginous  laugh  rolled  in  her 
throat. 

"  Lor'  sakes,  Miss  Palmer,"  she  said ;  "  there's  plenty  o' 
folks  would  get  married  three  or  four  times  ef  they  only 
had  the  chance." 

"  Well,"  continued  Mrs.  Palmer,  with  a  sigh  of  resigna 
tion,  "  they  must  like  gettin'  ready  for  it  better'n  I  do." 

"I  think  it's  fust-rate  to  be  gettin'  ready  for  it!"  inter 
posed  Benny,  with  such  oracular  gravity  at  this  moment, 
that  it  started  <off  Aunt  Chloe's  laugh  again,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  sit  down  and  hold  her  hands  on  her  knees. 

"Kobody'll  ever  cotch  you  asleep  in  the  mornin', 
Benny,"  was  her  compliment,  between  little  whiffs  of 
laughter.  "  I  declare  you're  a  smart  'un.  What  do  you 
know  about  gettin'  ready  for  a  weddin'  ?" 

"  I  know  there's  plenty  of  weddin'-cake  on  hand,"  said 
the  boy,  with  his  round  eyes  dancing  like  coals  betwixt  his 
curls ;  "  and  that's  all  the  good  there  is  in  gettin'  married, 
anyway.  Aunt  Chloe,  when  you  make  my  wedding-cake, 
you  must  make  one  big  loaf  that  '11  last  a  great  many  days, 
all  for  myself,  and  nobody  else  is  to  touch  it." 

This  time  Aunt  Chloe  was  utterly  convulsed  and  had  to 
hold  her  hands  on  both  sides,  and  Mrs.  Palmer  could  not 
refrain  from  joining  in  the  laugh. 

When  the  black  woman  had  at  last  recovered  herself,  she 
remarked  to  Mrs.  Palmer,  in  a  solemn  way,  that  she  might 
depend  on't,  that  child  was  born  to  light  a  candle  some 
where  in  the  world,  a  remark  which  did  in  nowise  diminish 
Mrs.  Palmer's  faith  in  Aunt  Chloe's  natural  acuteness  and 
prophetic  insight. 

"How  is  that  cake  comin'  on?"  she  inquired,  after  a 
glance  round  the  domain  she  had  temporarily  resigned ;  for 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  349 

Mrs.  Palmer  had  been  occupied  with  Grace  the  whole 
morning  in  setting  the  chambers  in  order  for  guests  who 
were  expected  from  a  distance  on  this  occasion, 

"Jest  come  and  see  for  yourself,  Miss  Palmer,"  and  Aunt 
Chloe  led  the  way  with  an  air  of  proud  satisfaction  into 
the  cool  milk-room,  where  the  cake  was  spread  out  on  two 
tables,  pervading  the  whole  air  with  its  spicy,  saccharine 
aroma. 

The  bride's  cake  stood  in  the  centre,  towering  loftily  over 
all  the  others,  the  sides  and  top  glistening  in  icing.  Around 
it  stood  smaller  mounds  of  snow  and  smooth  plains  of  a 
maroon  tint,  thickly  freckled  with  citron  and  plums — alto 
gether  a  wonderful  triumph  of  Aunt  Chloe's  genius. 

"  There,  Miss  Palmer,"  said  the  little  black  woman, 
waving  her  hand  majestically  towards  the  tables,  "did 
you  ever  see  anything  to  beat  that  P" 

"  Never  in  all  my  born  days,"  fervently  ejaculated  the 
Deacon's  wife.  "You  have  the  luck,  Aunt  Chloe." 

Here  Benny's  face  was  thrust  inside. 

"  Mother,  he's  come ;  the  stage  has  got  in  I"  was  his 
laconic  communication  of  the  future  bridegroom's  advent. 

Gratification  and  anxiety  at  this  announcement  struggled 
for  mastery  in  Mrs.  Palmer's  face.  She  only  expressed  the 
latter  to  Aunt  Chloe. 

"  Dear  me,  now !  there  won't  be  such  a  thing  as  gettin' 
hold  of  Grace  ag'in  to-day,  now  Edward's  come.  They 
haven't  seen  each  other  for  a  year,  and  he  won't  have  her 
out  of  his  sight  for  one  while." 

"  Lau,  Miss  Palmer,  you  can't  expect  anything  short  o' 
young  folks !  Let  'em  have  their  time ;  they  won't  be 
young  al'ays,"  answered  Aunt  Chloe,  who  had  a  secret 
sympathy  with  her  future  mistress.  Then  she  beckoned  to 


350  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

Benjamin,  who  stood  in  wide-eyed  admiration  before  the 
tables,  and  turning  to  one  of  the  shelves,  took  from  it  a 
cake  baked  in  the  shape  of  a  large  coffee  cup,  and  slipped 
the  miniature  loaf  into  his  hand,  saying,  with  a  mysterious 
look,  "  Don't  say  nothin'  about  it.  I  kept  a  corner  of  my 
eye  open  for  you." 

"  And  mind,  Benny,  you  keep  clear  of  the  parlor  this 
mornin',"  added  Mrs.  Palmer,  as  the  boy  started  for  the 
door. 

Colonel  Dudley's  arrival  took  no  one  by  surprise  this 
time,  and  Grace  was  in  some  sort  of  readiness  to  receive 
him ;  but  Mrs.  Palmer's  prophecy  that  the  young  officer 
would  absolutely  appropriate  the  society  of  his  bride  elect' 
proved  itself  by  the  events  of  that  morning.  It  was  in 
vain  that  Grace  occasionally  ventured  a  faint  suggestion  of 
especial  duties  demanding  her  supervision  for  this  crisis. 
She  was  met  with  the  invariable  argument : 

"  I  haven't  had  a  sight  of  you  for  a  year,  Grace — what 
a  long  one  it  has  seemed — and  you  mustn't  take  your  face 
away  from  me  this  morning." 

"  You'll  have  a  chance  to  see  it,  Edward,  every  day  of 
your  life  in  a  little  while ;  and  grow  tired  of  it  too,  perhaps, 
some  time." 

The  smile  half  contradicted  and  apologized  for  the 
words ;  and  yet  there  was  a  little  faint  doubt  or  fear  in  the 
tones. 

"  No  danger  of  that,  Grace,"  answered  Edward  Dudley, 
solemnly.  "I  shall  carry  through  my  life  too  keen  a 
memory  of  those  long  years  when  my  eyes  hungered  for  a 
sight  of  this  dear  face  to  have  it  ever  become  '  common '  to 
me." 

"  I  understand  you,  Edward.     I  have  often  thought  that 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  351 

our  lives  together  would  be  different,  because  of  the  great 
shadow  that  fell  upon  our  youth  ;  that  some  new  element 
of  earnestness  and  happiness  would  enter  into  them 
because  of  all  we  have  passed  through." 

"  No  doubt  of  it ;  such  a  long,  fiery  trial  and  discipline 
ought  to  make  us  better  man  and  woman  for  the  years  that 
remain." 

Then  they  both  sat  thinking,  silently. 

"  "What  is  it,  Grace  ?"  For  a  new  wish  had  struggled  up 
through  the  gravity  of  her  face. 

"  It  came  across  me  then,  suddenly,  that  I  wanted 
Eobert  to  be  here  to-morrow  night.  It  will  not  seem 
quite  complete  without  him." 

The  Colonel  smiled. 

"  I  have  a  feeling — a  presentiment,  as  your  sex  say — that 
he'll  be  here  before  the  ceremony  takes  place." 

"  Why,  Edward !"  with  the  startled  pleasure  in  her 
brown  eyes  that  he  loved  to  see ;  "  what  has  put  that  idea 
into  your  head?" 

"I  saw  Robert  a  few  weeks  since,  just  after  he  had 
obtained  his  furlough,  and  he  then  told  me  he  antici 
pated  being  here  as  soon  as  I  was ;  but  it  seems  I  have 
preceded  him." 

"  There  is  something  beyond  your  words,  Edward." 

"  If  there  is,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  disclose  it.  Wait 
and  see  whether  you  find  me  a  false  prophet." 

A  suspicion  suddenly  crossed  Grace's  mind  which  she 
was  about  to  utter,  but  a  second  thought  held  the  words 
back.  Kobert  had  a  fashion  of  doing  things  in  his  own 
way.  She  resolved  to  ask  no  questions,  and  changed  the 
subject  by  saying : 

"  This  last  year  has  improved  you  wonderfully,  Edward 


352  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

You  don't  look  like  the  same  sun-browned,  weather-beaten 
man  who  came  up  that  walk  a  year  ago." 

It  was  true  ;  the  year  in  camp  which  the  officers  of  the 
American  army  had  enjoyed  after  their  long  and  terrible 
labor  and  hardships  had  effected  visible  improvement  in  the 
health  and  appearance  of  many,  among  whom  was  Edward 
Dudley. 

"  I  was  haggard,  weather-beaten,  worn  out,  when  I  came 
to  you  a  year  ago.  I've  had  some  time  for  recuperation 
since ;  and  it's  well,  too,  considering  what  is  to  take  place 
to-morrow  night.  I'm  not  vain,  but  I  shouldn't  like  to 
have  the  contrast  greater  than  it  is." 

Grace  had  no  tact  in  answering  pretty  compliments  with 
others,  as  most  of  her  sex  have ;  she  was  too  natural  and 
simple  for  any  arts,  and  Edward  Dudley  was  not  much  in 
the  nabit  of  bestowing  compliments,  nor  would  he  have 
liked  a  woman  who  desired  them.  At  this  time  Grace 
arose  suddenly,  saying : 

"I've  had  a  present,  Edward,  that  I  want  you  to  see." 
And  she  went  to  the  cupboard  in  one  corner  of  the  room 
and  opened  it. 

He  followed  her,  and  was  greeted  by  a  display  of  china 
a  little  more  exquisite  than  anything  he  ever  remembered 
seeing  in  his  life ;  and  this,  in  Colonel  Dudley's  case,  was 
saying  good  a  deal.  Every  piece  in  the  set  had  some  new 
landscape  finely  traced  in  the  shining  transparent  ware, 
so  that  the  whole  embraced  a  variety  of  beautiful  and 
varied  pictures. 

"  I  shall  not  tell  you  where  I  got  them  until  you  haf  e  passed 
your  judgment  on  each,"  said  Grace.  And  the  next  half 
hour  slipped  by  examining  and  admiring  each  separate  article. 

"  It's  a  rare  gift  and  a  costly  one,  Grace,"  said  the  Colo- 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  353 

nel,  looking  up  from  the  last  tea-cup.  "  What  friend  have 
you  with  tastes  so  fine  and  heart  so  generous  ?" 

"  They  are  the  gift  of  the  dead  rather  than  of  the  liv 
ing,"  she  answered,  with  a  shadow  which  was  something 
better  than  grief  coming  into  her  face.  "  Mrs.  Trueman 
sent  these  to  me,  Edward,  as  Nathaniel's  gift  to  us  both. 
He  brought  this  set  home  to  his  mother  when  he  went  on 
that  sea  voyage  with  his  uncle  when  he  was  about  fourteen 
years  old ;  and  Mrs.  Trueman  wanted  us  to  have  some 
thing  that  we  could  call  Nathaniel's  gift." 

And  now  Colonel  Dudley's  eyes  sought  the  beautiful 
porcelain  with  something  besides  admiration. 

"  But  the  real  meaning  of  the  gift,"  continued  Grace,  "is 
to  be  found  in  that  last  message  which  Nathaniel  left  you 
for  his  mother.  Lucy  says  that  Mrs.  Trueman  has  been  a 
different  woman  from  the  night  that  she  heard  it ;  not,  of 
course,  the  bright,  active,  bustling  little  woman  we  all 
remember  before  Nathaniel's  death,  but  she  has  never 
grieved  for  him  since,  refusing  to  be  comforted;  and  her 
interest  in  life  and  in  old  things  has  grown  steadily  since 
that  time,  and  she's  evinced  it  in  nothing  quite  so  much  as 
in  our  affairs  just  now.  Indeed,  Lucy  told  me  that  she'd 
finally  obtained  her  mother's  promise  to  be  present  to-mor 
row  evening." 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,  and  it  will  be  doubly  gratifying  to 
Lucy  and  all  of  us,  as  she  is  to  be  your  bridesmaid." 

"  Yes  ;  that  was  arranged  long  ago.  Do  you  think  Mr. 
Doming  can  manage  to  get  here  ?" 

"  He  will,  as  he  promised  me,  if  human  power  can  effect 
it ;  but  his  duties  are  of  such  a  nature  that  it's  well-nigh  im 
possible  for  him  to  leave  his  post  for  a  single  day.  Still,  I 
have  strong  hopes  of  seeing  him." 


354  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  I  long  to  have  them  realized,  especially  for  Lucy's 
sake." 

A  little  pause,  and  Grace  resumed  : 

"  I  haven't  exhausted  my  gifts  yet.  I've  something  else 
to  show  you  ;"  and  she  took  down  from  a  higher  shelf  a 
waiter  containing  a  silver  tea-set  of  an  ancient  fashion, 
with  quaint  embossing  and  devices.  "  It  was  my  great- 
grandmother's,"  she  said  ;  "  it  is  mine  now." 

The  young  Colonel  had  an  artist's  eye  for  these  things, 
and  perhaps  he  knew  their  aesthetic  worth  a  little  better 
than  Grace.  She  was  half-surprised  to  find  that  he  touch 
ed  the  ancient  plate  almost  reverently,  for  to  him  they 
were  histories  and  biographies  of  the  past. 

"  Some  time,"  he  said,  "  I  hope  to  sit  at  my  own  table  in 
our  own  little  parsonage  and  see  her  fair  young  face  shin 
ing  out  sweet  and  strange  from  behind  this  ancient  silver." 

Grace's  laugh  and  blush  came  together  as  she  told  him 
she  had  some  conscientious  scruples  about  the  propriety  of 
parsons'  wives  sitting  at  their  own  table  behind  ancient 
silver.  It  might  not  be  setting  a  good  example  to  the  con 
gregation. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  355 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

s 

THE  evening  of  the  next  day  was  as  fair  a  one  as  ever 
breathed  itself  out  of  the  heart  of  June.  The  young 
moon  bloomed  amid  her  stars  like  a  solitary  flower  amid 
a  lake  of  golden  buds.  The  winds  loitered  up  from  the 
shore,  and  lost  themselves  amid  the  pines  which  stood 
half-way  betwixt  the  shore  and  the  lane  that  led  past 
Deacon  Palmer's. 

The  old  homestead  had  never  witnessed  so  fair  a  scene 
as  that  which  was  to  occur  under  its  roof  to-night.  It 
was  brilliantly  lighted  from  garret  to  cellar,  and  over 
flowing  with  friends  and  neighbors  from  far  and  near; 
for  this  night  was  to  witness  the  nuptials  of  the  only 
daughter  of  the  house  with  the  nephew  of  their  old  minis 
ter  ;  and  this  fact,  with  all  the  long  trials  and  uncertain 
ties  which  had  accompanied  their  betrothal,  made  the  event 
one  of  no  common  interest  and  significance.  The  parlor 
was  hung  with  evergreens  and  roses,  the  tasteful  work  of 
Lucy  Trueman  and  a  bevy  of  merry  handmaidens.  •  It 
was  not  far  from  eight  o'clock  when  the  guests  crowded 
into  the  parlor,  and  a  hush  stole  over  the  humming  voices 
and  happy  faces',  and  all  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  door, 
where  a  moment  later  appeared  the  stately  white  head  of 
Parson  Willetts,  followed  by  the  Deacon  and  his  young 
son,  with  Mrs.  Palmer  and  Mrs.  Trueman;  and  beyond 
these  came  the  bridal  party. 


356  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

How  they  all  held  their  breaths  to  see  her,  the  fair  young 
bride,  in  her  silver  foam  of  brocade,  and  the  spray  of  white 
orange  blossoms,  like  stars,  in  the  bright  darkness  of  her 
hair.  How  sweet  and  bright,  in  picturesque  contrast  with 
the  bride,  shone  Lucy  Trueman's  face  to-night,  in  the  grey 
satin,  flushed  with  pink,  which  had  been  her  mother's  wed 
ding-dress.  And  by  Lucy's  side  stood  John  Deming,  who 
had  arrived  at  the  very  last  moment,  with  barely  time  to 
exchange  his  dusty  travelling  suit  for  one  suited  to  the 
occasion. 

And  then  the  solemn  voice  of  Parson  Willetts  broke  the 
silence;  the  brief  marriage  ceremony  was  performed,  the 
touching  prayer  was  offered,  which  reached  far  back  into 
the  past  to  that  fearful  cloud  of  darkness  and  anguish 
under  which  they  had  all  walked ;  and  then  the  prayer 
brpke  out  in  a  joyful  thanksgiving  for  the  morning  of 
peace  and  liberty  that  had  at  last  arisen  upon  the  nation  ; 
thanksgiving,  too,  for  the  young  pair,  who,  after  counting 
no  sacrifice  dear  for  their  country's  sake,  had  at  last,  in  the 
presence  of  many  witnesses,  united  their  lives — the  lives 
that  the  old  Parson  besought  God  fervently  might  dwell  in 
peace  and  happiness  under  their  own  vine  and  fig-tree, 
until  they  should  go  to  that  home  where  it  was  never  said : 
"  Till  death  do  you  part." 

Then  the  blessing  was  pronounced,  and  Edward  Dudley 
had  taken  to  wife  Grace,  the  daughter  of  Deacon  Palmer. 

Dear  reader,  it  was  a  hearty,  old-fashioned  wedding,  with 
a  great  deal  of  warm  feeling  and  comparatively  little  cere 
mony  about  it.  Aunt  Chloe  was  in  her  element,  and  her 
yellow  turban  shone  like  a  tropical  sun  as  she  bustled 
round  with  trays  heaped  with  cake ;  while  Benny,,  who 
always  shone  conspicuous  on  such  occasions,  followed  next 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  357 

with  the  wine.  Of  course  there  was  no  dancing ;  the 
younger  part  of  the  guests,  however,  indulged  in  various 
old-fashioned  plays  and  games.  But  the  bridal  party  did 
not  join  in  any  of  this  general  hilarity.  A  solemn  joy, 
which  flowed  in  deeper  and  less  demonstrative  channels, 
filled  their  souls  ;  and  amid  all  the  greetings  and  congratu 
lations  of  the-evening,  there  were  no  words  which  Edward 
Dudley  remembered  so  long  as  he  did  those  of  Mrs.  True- 
man  when  he  found  himself  standing  at  her  side,  and  she 
looked  up  in  his  face  with  a  smile  that  touched  him. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  Edward,"  she  said,  "  how  Natha 
niel  would  have  enjoyed  being  here  to-night." 

"  So  have  I,  dear  Mrs.  Trueman ;  and  then  I  remember 
ed  that  if  it  was  in  his  power  to  be  even  here  he  would  not, 
because  he  is  so  much  happier  where  he  is  now." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Nathaniel's  mother,  looking  up  with 
a  smile  that  had  something  of  solemn  triumph  in  its  sweet 
ness.  "  I  am  content  now  that  it  is  just  as  it  is.  It  is 
enough  for  me  to  know  that  Nathaniel  is  happy,  and  I  am 
going  to  him." 

Nobody  else  caught  Mrs.  Trueman's  words,  and  at  that 
moment  Mr.  Deming,  who  was  standing  near,  remarked  to 
Parson  Willetts : 

"  I  hope,  sir,  that  you'll  have  an  opportunity  to  do  for 
me  before  long  precisely  the  favor  which  you've  done  this 
evening  for  your  nephew  here." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to,  sir,"  answered  the  stately  old 
Parson ;  "  but  it  will  take  somebody  beside  you  and  I  to 
make  that  bargain ;"  and  he  smiled  benignantly  down  on 
Lucy,  who  stood  by  the  clergyman's  side. 

And  Lucy  Trueman's  cheeks  were  crimson,  and  she 
looked  for  once  as  though  she  had  nothing  to  say. 


358  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

It  was  growing  late,  and  the  guests  were  beginning  to 
think  about  leaving,  when  all  on  a  sudden  there  was  a  stir 
and  confusion  about  the  door,  and  in  a  moment  Kobert 
Palmer  entered  the  room,  and  on  his  arm  hung  a  small, 
slender  girl- woman,  her  large  blue  eyes  full  of  shyness  and 
bewilderment,  and  her  sweet,  child-like  face  in  a  glow  of 
confusion. 

Kobert  moved  right  up  to  the  place  where  his  family, 
stricken  dumb  with  amazement,  was  gathered. 

"  Father,  mother,  Grace,"  said  the  young  man,  "  haven't 
you  a  welcome  for  me  to-night,  and  for  this  woman,  my 
wife,  Mrs,  Robert  Palmer  ?" 

Exclamations,  welcomes,  tears,  congratulations,  followed 
in  confusion.  The  Deacon  made  the  first  coherent  speech 
after  kissing  his  new  daughter. 

"  Certainly.  I'll  welcome  your  wife,  Kobert ;  but  where 
in  the  world  did  you  get  her  ?" 

"  In  the  very  house  where,  six  years  ago,  she  found  me 
and  saved  my  life.  If  it  had  not  been  for  her  I  should  not 
be  standing  among  you  to-night." 

Then  the  pretty  young  wife  looked  up  through  her 
blushes,  and  said  in  her  sweet,  clear  voice  : 

"My  father,  and  mother,  and  grandmother  are  dead, 
and  I  felt  almost  alone  in  the  world  when  he  came  to  me 
and  told  me  he  had  carried  the  memory  of  the  little  girl 
who  saved  his  life  through  all  these  years,  and  so  I  pro 
mised  to  come  with  him  to  be  his  wife,  and  a  daughter  and 
a  sister  to  those  he  loves." 

And  from  that  hour  the  family  of  Robert  Palmer  took 
his  young  wife  to  their  hearts,  and  never  had  reason  to 
regret  it. 
-  The  young  husband  waited  only  until  he  had  resigned 


BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS.  359 

his  wife  to  his  mother,  and  seen  her  travelling  bonnet 
removed  from  her  golden  hair,  before  he  turned  to  his 
sister  and  asked  eagerly  : 

"  Am  I  too  late,  Grace  ?" 

"  Just  two  hours  and  a  half,"  interposed  the  Colonel ; 
"  for  at  that  time  Grace  Palmer  merged  herself  in  Mrs. 
Edward  Dudley." 

Eobert  took  the  disappointment  with  his  usual  good- 
natured  philosophy. 

"  There's  no  use  in  mourning  over  it  now.  I  should  have 
been  on  hand  in  time  if  the  stage  hadn't  broken  down. 
Grace,  receive  the  congratulations  and  the  blessings  of 
your  brother." 

"  And  take  those  of  your  sister,  Kobert,  in  good  mea 
sure,  flowing  over."' 

And  they  kissed  each  other. 

"My  Little  Bessie,"  said  the  young  husband,  as  he 
looked  fondly  at  her,  standing  by  his  mother's  side  in  her 
wedding-dress  of  white  satin,  "  does  she  look  anything  as 
you  fancied  ?" 

"Not  much.  She  is  prettier  than  you  painted  her, 
Kobert." 

The  surprise  and  confusion  consequent  on  Eobert's  sud 
den  advent  with  his  new  wife  kept  the  guests  together  an 
hour  or  two  longer.  But  at  last  they  began  to  disperse, 
and  a  little  after  midnight  the  time  came,  as  had  been 
previously  arranged,  for  Edward  to  take  Grace  to  the  par 
sonage. 

The  minister's  old  chaise  was  at  the  door  for  that  pur 
pose  ;  and  at  the  last,  Grace  turned  to  her  father  and 
mother  and  said  : 

"It  seemed   very   fitting  that    this   night,    which   has 


360  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

taken   from    you  one   daughter   should   bring   you    ano 
ther." 

Then  she  turned,  took  the  arm  of  her  husband,  and  went 
out  from  the  old  homestead. 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  361 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

IT  is  a  day  in  a  June  six  years  later — a  day  which  is  twin- 
sister  in  its  skies  above  and  earth  beneath  to  that  one 
which  witnessed  the  marriage  of  Edward  and  Grace  Dud 
ley.  The  windows  of  the  wide  old  sitting-room  of  the 
parsonage  are  open  this  afternoon,  and  the  roses  burn  like 
red  coals  among  the  dark  leaves,  and  the  lady  who  sits 
there  pauses  often  in  the  little  crimson  sacque  she  is  hem 
ming,  and  looks  out  on  the  dark  sea  of  meadow-grass  and 
off  to  the  distant  hills,  and  her  sweet  brown  eyes  are  full 
of  quiet  recognition  and  enjoyment  of  the  beauty. 

These  years  have  dealt  very  tenderly  with  Mrs.  Dudley. 
As  she  sits  there  in  her  simple  white  dress  and  the  bands 
of  bright  brown  hair  parted  over  her  low,  open  forehead, 
she  looks  the  same  girlish  Grace  Palmer  of  six  years  ago. 

But  suddenly  the  lady  starts,  for  a  little  hand — you  know 
it  is  that  by  the  sound — is  fumbling  at  the  door-latch,  and 
before  the  lady  can  rise,  a  little  head,  with  a  bright  mesh 
of  golden  curls  and  a  pair  of  eyes  which  his  mother  gave 
him,  rushes  into  the  room. 

"  What !  is  your  nap  over  so  quick,  little  Nathaniel  ?" 
asks  the  mother,  and  the  caress  in  her  heart  slips  out  in  her 
tones. 

"  Yes ;  I've  had  a  great  big  sleep,"  answers  the  small 
lisping  voice,  and  the  boy's  face  is  full  of  brightness  and 
wakefulness.  "Where's  papa?"  and  he  starts  for  the  study 

16 


362  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

door  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  absolute  freedom  of 
entrance  there. 

"Come  back,  my  child,"  calls  the  soft  voice  of  the 
mother  ;  "  papa  isn't  there ;  he's  gone  over  the  hills  to  visit 
some  sick  people  this  afternoon,  and  he  won't  be  home 
until  night." 

The  bright  face  is  a  little  overshadowed  as  it  comes  back 
to  the  mother.  She  knows  that  he  missed  the  frolic  and 
race  with  his  father  which  always  came  with  the  end  of 
his  afternoon  nap. 

"  Now  what  will  you  have  instead  of  papa  ?"  she  asks, 
slipping  her  needle  in  the  hem  of  her  work. 

The  boy  looks  perplexed  and  irresolute,  and  sticks  his 
thumb  between  his  lips  like  ripe  berries. 

"  Something,"  he  says. 

"  Perhaps  mamma  can  help  you  think.  Will  you  play 
with  the  pretty  box  of  pictures  Uncle  Eobert  brought  you 
last  week,  or  will  you  have  a  nice  story  ?" 

The  boy  reflects  a  moment,  and  his  mother  tries  to  con 
ceal  her  smile  as  she  watches  him  standing  with  his  thumb 
in  his  small  mouth  in  an  attitude  of  profound  meditation. 
In  a  moment  his  face  clears  up : 

"I'll  have  the  story  first;"  and  he  bounds  towards  his 
mother. 

She  lifts  him  on  her  lap  and  smoothes  the  bright  mesh 
of  golden  curls,  and  commences : 

"  There  was  once  a  little  boy  just  the  size  and  about  the 
age  of  "Nathaniel " 

The  low  running  voice  is  broken  up  here  with  a  little 
start,  and  in  a  surprised  tone  the  lady  asks : 

"Why,  Edward,  what  has  brought  you  back  so 
soon  ?" 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  363 

The  young  clergyman  comes  towards  his  wife  and  child 
rapidly  as  his  lame  leg  will  permit. 

"  Some  good  news  that  I  wanted  to  share  with  you, 
Grace." 

Here  the  boy  interposes,  bounding  from  his  mother's 
lap  and  rushing  towards  his  father  with  a  crow  of  triumph. 

"  Papa's  little  man ;"  and  he  is  lifted  up  quickly,  but 
does  not  receive  his  usual  amount  of  attention  just  now. 

"I've  had  a  call,  Grace,"  seating  himself  before  his  wife 
and  watching  the  effect  of  his  communication. 

"  You  have  !    Where  ?"  her  face  full  of  interest. 

"  At  the  old  church."  She  looks  touched  and  very 
glad  withal ;  yet  she  says  quietly :  "  It  is  no  more  than  I 
expect,  now  that  dear  uncle  has  gone  from  the  congre 
gation  here  to  the  one  above.  You  will  accept  it, 
Edward?" 

"  Shall  I  ?  I  could  get  a  larger  salary  and  what  the 
world  would  call  a  better  offer,  perhaps,  by  waiting." 

"You  don't  really  mean  that  while  you  ask  it,  Edward  ?" 

"  Not  wholly.  I  know  of  no  place  where  I  can  have, 
on  the  whole,  a  deeper  influence  or  do  more  good." 

"  Then  you  will  accept  it ;  and  I  shall  not  have  to  leave 
father  and  mother  in  their  old  age,  and  break  their  hearts 
almost,  and  my  own,  too ;  for  my  life  has  taken  deep  roots 
in  my  old  home." 

"  So  has  "hiine  among  this  people.  "We  will,  please 
God,  my  little  wife,  live,  work,  and  die  here." 

Mrs.  Dudley  smiled  on  him  the  sweet,  brave,  steadfast 
smile  of  Grace  Palmer.  Her  husband  leaned  over  and 
kissed  her,  and  then  he  smiled  on  her  archly  with  some 
new  thought. 

"  What  is  it,  Edward  ?" 


364  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

"  I  was  thinking,  dear,  of  that  first  time  I  kissed  you 
under  the  old  apple-tree  in  the  moonlight,  and  how  indig 
nant  you  were." 

"  When  was  that,  papa  ?"  interposed  a  little  voice  whose 
owner  began  to  feel  itself  a  good  deal  neglected  by  this 
time. 

"  Don't  be  inquisitive,  my  son,"  laughed  the  father,  lift 
ing  the  child  above  his  head. 

"  Edward,  what  can  have  put  such  a  thought  into  your 
mind  ?"  said  Mrs.  Dudley,  with  a  very  slight  flush  amid 
her  laughter,  as  the  memory  of  her  emotions  on  the  occa 
sion  alluded  to  came  vividly  back.  "  You  were  a  most 
presumptuous,  audacious  young  man,  and  deserved  some 
thing  very  different  from  what  you  received." 

"  I  don't  dispute  it,  as  I  seldom  do  any  of  your  opinions, 
Mrs.'  Dudley.  As  for  the  thought,  I  presume  it  was 
suggested  by  a  conversation  I  have  just  had  with  your 
father." 

"  What  sort  of  a  conversation,  pray  ?" 

"  One  that  took  a  leap  back  into  the  past  and  out  into 
the  future,  and  which  had  for  its  starting  point  the  call 
that  he  delivered  to  me  from  the  church." 

"Father  was  a  happy  man  when  he  gave  it  to  you,  I 
know,"  said  Mrs.  Dudley,  with  a  little  touched  smile. 

"  Happy !  You  ought  to  have  seen  him  at  that  moment, 
my  dear ;  and  in  order  that  I  should  bring  you  the  news 
at  once,  he  offered  to  relieve  me  of  my  visit  over  the  hills 
this  afternoon.  By-the-by,  he  and  mother,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Eobert,  and  Benny,  are  all  coming  over  to  tea  and  to  con 
gratulate  you  on  your  new  elevation." 

"  I  must  try  to  assume  a  little  extra  dignity  for  the  occa 
sion,  I  suppose." 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS.  365 

"Not  a  particle,  0  model  of  a  minister's  wife." 

And  here  Mrs.  Dudley  laughed  the  laugh  which  had 
been  Grace  Palmer's ;  and  remarked,  putting  up  her  work, 
that  she  must  go  out  and  inform  Aunt  Chloe  of  the  antici 
pated  advent  of  guests. 

"Add  four  more  to  those  I've  mentioned,"  continued 
her  husband. 

"  Why,  Edward,  Aunt  Chloe  will  look  serious!" 

"  No  she  won't ;  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deming,  with  the 
baby  and  Mrs.  Trueman,  are  the  guests.  I  met  John 
coming  up  and  invited  him  over,  and  told  him  where 
fore.  " 

"  Oh,  Edward,  the  Lord  has  been  very  good  to  us !"  her 
face  going  from  its  brightness  into  sudden  gravity. 

"  Good,  my  dear  wife!  Our  lives  should  be  a  perpetual 
psalm  of  thanksgiving  for  His  tender  mercies  and  loving 
kindness  to  us ;  and  speaking  of  this,  reminds  me  that 
another  of  your  wishes  and  mine  has  been  granted." 

"  What  one,  Edward  ?" 

"  Benjamin  is  going  to  Yale  this  fall.  His  father  and 
he  have  just  made  up  their  minds  to  it." 

"I'm  afraid,  Edward,"  and  this  time  the  gravity  was 
deepened  into  tears  as  she  looked  up,  "  I'm  afraid  that  this 
continual  blessing,  this  great  prosperity,  will  be  too  much 
for  me ;  that,  in  receiving  and  enjoying  all  the  gifts,  I 
shall  not  in  my  heart  and  life  give  sufficient  glory  to  the 
Giver." 

"  Grace,"  answered  her  husband,  solemnly,  "  God, 
who  gave  us  strength  in  the  day  of  our  adversity,  will 
strengthen  our  hearts  to  take  his  prosperity  humbly,  grate 
fully." 

"  Papa  !  Papa !"   A  little  chubby  white  hand  ran  into  the 


366  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

clergyman's  thick  locks  of  hair,  and  a  little  dimpled  face 
was  lifted  up  with  a  silent  plea  in  it. 

"  I  understand  what  that  means,  child,  with  your  mother's 
eyes  and  your  father's  face,"  said  the  minister,  pinching  the 
cheek  which  was  like  a  peach  that  held  the  summer's  ripe 
ness  in  it.  "  Come,  while  mamma  goes  off  to  take  culinary 
counsel  with  Aunt  Chloe,  we'll  have  a  frolic  together,"  and 
lie  carried  the  crowing  child  into  the  library. 

The  sunlight  of  that  June  day  looked  also  into  the  small 
window-panes  of  the  old  tavern,  and  fell  in  a  golden  spray 
on  the  pleasant-faced  old  lady  who  sat  by  the  cradle  stir 
ring  it  softly  with  her  foot  and  humming  a  low  tune.  And 
among  the  pile  of  soft  pillows  lay  sleeping  a  year-old 
infant. 

Wonderful  for  beauty  was  the  face  of  this  child,  with 
the  dark  rings  of  hair  clustering  about  it,  with  lips  just 
parted  and  like  the  heart  of  crimson  roses,  while  the  small 
hands  were  clasped  together  like  a  pair  of  slow  blossoming 
lilies. 

Just  then  a  pair  of  soft,  swift  feet  entered  the  room,  and 
Mrs.  Lucy  Deming  came  up  to  her  window ;  and  her  face, 
a  bright,  young  face,  although  a  shade  more  matronly  than 
it  was  six  years  ago,  held  some  sudden  surprise  and  joy  in 
it. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  in  an  undertone,  with  a  glance  at 
the  cradle,  "  I've  got  some  news  for  you.  John  stopped  to 
tell  me  before  he  went  to  put  up  his  horse.  Can  you  guess 
it?" 

"  No.  I  never  was  much  of  a  hand  at  guessin',  Lucy  ; 
but  I  know  it's  good  news  from  the  looks  of  your  face." 

"  My  face  tells  the  truth,  then.     Edward  has  just  had  a 


BATTLE-FIELDS  OF   OUR  FATHERS.  367 

call  from  our  church,  and  of  course  he'll  accept  it  and  stay 
amongst  us.  I'm  so  glad  for  Grace's  sake,  for  all  their 
sakes,  and  for  ours !" 

"  So  am  I ;  there's  nobody  in  this  world  I'd  go  so  far  to 
hear  preach,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  fervently. 

"  And  we  are  all  to  go  over  there  to  tea  to  congratulate 
them.  John  has  just  seen  Edward." 

At  that  moment  the  child  stirred  softly  in  his  sleep. 
The  young  mother  bent  down  to  the  cradle  and  looked  on 
the  sleeper ;  when  she  raised  her  face  it  was  radiant  with 
tenderness. 

"  Oh,  mother,  isn't  he  beautiful !"  she  said. 

At  that  moment  the  child  opened  his  eyes,  and,  catching 
sight  of  his  grandmother,  he  stretched  out  his  arms  to  her 
and  crowed  and  laughed.  Mrs.  Trueman  gazed  on  the  boy 
a  moment  with  a  look  like  that  with  which,  years  ago,  she 
had  bent  over  another  cradle.  Then  she  lifted  her  eyes 
and  spoke : 

"  Lucy,  he  has  the  face — he  has  the  face  of  Nathaniel 
who  is  in  heaven  I" 

And  so,  dear  reader,  we  leave  them  all  living  their  plea 
sant  lives,  doing  their  work  for  God  and  their  generation  in 
the  fair,  free  land  for  which  they  suffered  so  long  and 
which  they  bought  with  such  a  price.  And  while  I  have 
been  writing  of  their  deeds  of  heroism  and  sacrifices,  all 
over  this  land  the  old  heroisms  and  the  old  sacrifices  have 
been  made  real  again,  and  the  children  have  stood  up  to 
dare  and  to  suffer  in  the  places  of  the  fathers  and  the 
mothers. 

And  as  for  them  the  morning  rose  after  the  long  night, 
so  God  grant  it  may  arise  on  us,  and  that  we  keep 


368  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

unbroken  and  undivided  the  inheritance  they  left  us — an 
inheritance  for  which  is  now  being  poured  out  on  many  a 
fearful  battle-ground  blood  as  free  and  life  as  precious  as 
those  which  have  rendered  sacred  the  "  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF 
OUR  FATHERS." 


THE  END. 


UCLA-Young  Research   Library 

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